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Najja Moon's work is joyful, reflective, intersectional, queer, has movement, human experience, sparks conversation: "how old were you when you had your first kiss?"
It's epic and I hope to see it in real life one day :)

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September 3 - November 14, 2021
The Museum of Contemporary Art North Miami (MOCA) is pleased to present its most recent Art on the Plaza commission, Reading Reflections by Miami-based artist Najja Moon.

With this work, Moon explores themes of reflection and self-empowerment through a human-scale intervention jutting out from MOCA's plaza. The materiality of the sculpture, primarily fabricated from dichroic glass, creates a prismatic light effect where the viewer can simultaneously look through and see themselves reflected in the oil-slick surface. Experienced from different angles, light conditions, and dimensions, the work draws viewers into their own image, while intricate shadows and atmospheric color fog alter perception.

Etched upon the large slab pitched at a steep angle leading up from the viewer's feet is a drawing by Moon. Her signature writhing line and enigmatic symbolism, arrows, and flow lines at first seem to indicate an encrypted set of dance instructions. Sunlight casts shadows from the drawing onto the ground, naturally projecting and amplifying it. In fact, the shadows from the drawing are intended to create an intricate and mysterious game of hop-scotch for visitors to engage with. Interspersed in the Moon's elegant calligraphic language are pieces of text, both derived from and a product of the line-work. The text suggests rules, challenges, and directions for what to do next. Questions and prompts result in highly personal outcomes, such as "How old were you when you had your first kiss?" Viewers respond by moving to the next point and so on, creating an idiosyncratic but completely authentic physical map of their life experiences.

Both engaged in a kind of sensory-deprivation exercise, light-and-space-movement phenomena, and meditation, Reading Reflections is a powerful participatory artwork that playfully nudges catharsis, self-confrontation, and reflexivity.

-Amanda Sanfilippo Long
ABOUT THE ARTIST
Najja Moon is a Miami-based artist and arts organizer with a practice centered around the idea that art is utilitarian. Her practice is an amalgamation of practicalities that improve her life; design and language, cultural responsibility, and community. In her visual arts practice, she uses drawing and text to explore the intersections of queer identity, the body and movement, black culture, and familiar relations both personal and communal.
Art on the Plaza is presented by MOCA, with Major Support from the North Miami Community Redevelopment Agency (NMCRA). Featured artists include Reginald O'Neal, Studio AMLgMATD (Laz Ojalde and Natalie Zlamalova), a collaborative presentation by Morel Doucet and Stephen Arboite, Nice N' Easy (Allison Matherly & Jeffrey Noble), and Najja Moon. The museum will host a series of virtual programs to coincide with the art installations throughout the year. For more information on this program and others at the museum, visit https://mocanomi.org. MOCA is located at 770 NE 125th St., North Miami, FL 33161. It is open Wednesday 12 p.m. - 7 p.m. and Thursday - Sunday from 10 a.m. - 5 p.m. (closed Mondays and major holidays). Admission to the museum is $10 and free for MOCA members and North Miami residents. For more information, visit mocanomi.org, call 305-893-6211, or email [email protected]

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Art on the Plaza: Najja Moon - Museum of Contemporary Art North Miami

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September 3 - November 14, 2021 The Museum of Contemporary Art North Miami (MOCA) is pleased to present its most recent Art on the Plaza commission, Reading Reflections by Miami-based artist Najja Moon. With this work, Moon explores themes of reflection and self-empowerment through a human-scale intervention jutting out from MOCA's plaza.

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Relational identity - how we relate to others, history, things, time, space, experiences

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The concept of intersectionality describes the ways in which systems of inequality based on gender, race, ethnicity, sexual orientation, gender identity, disability, class and other forms of discrimination "intersect" to create unique dynamics and effects. For example, when a Muslim woman wearing the Hijab is being discriminated, it would be impossible to dissociate her female* from her Muslim identity and to isolate the dimension(s) causing her discrimination.

All forms of inequality are mutually reinforcing and must therefore be analysed and addressed simultaneously to prevent one form of inequality from reinforcing another. For example, tackling the gender pay gap alone - without including other dimensions such as race, socio-economic status and immigration status - will likely reinforce inequalities among women.

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intersectionality 101, what is intersectionality, about CIJ

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Of the four Cs which determine quality, diamond cut is the most complex to understand as well as the most important characteristic in choosing a diamond. The cut refers not only to the diamond's proportions and symmetry, but also to the delicate crafting of each and every facet. The combination of these factors, together with the polish and overall finish is known as the cut of the diamond.

The cut of a diamond is often related to the final diamond shape but not always.

Diamond Proportions

Diamond Vocabulary

To understand some of the finer points of diamond cuts, it's necessary to first understand some basic diamond vocabulary.

Let the Light Shine Through

Every diamond has its own, unique proportions which directly affect the way light travels through the diamond and is reflected back up through the table. This, in turn, influences the sparkle, or brilliance, of the diamond and its perceived beauty. In fact, the cut of a diamond, far more than its color or clarity, affects its splendor.

If a diamond is cut too shallow, light can escape from underneath, reducing the brilliance. If the cut is too deep, light can spread out from the sides, again affecting the sparkle. A diamond with good proportions will allow the light to travel inside the diamond, reflecting the light through the table and crown for maximum sparkle.

The sparks or small flashes of light often seen as a diamond moves are otherwise known as scintillation. As well as brilliance, which is essentially the amount of white light reflected by the diamond, the cut also influences the amount of fire and scintillation of the diamond. The fire is the way the light is refracted by the diamond, splitting it into the beautiful colors of the rainbow.
Diamond Cut Grades at Israel-Diamonds.com

At Israel-Diamonds, our diamonds are graded for cut according to the following scale:

Excellent - E
Very Good - VG
Good - G

We do not sell any diamonds with a Fair or Poor cut grade.

Excellent Cut: Our highest cut grade, this diamond is cut with proportions which allow the maximum brilliance to shine through.

Very Good Cut: This diamond has first-rate proportions and offers outstanding sparkle and brilliance at a cost-effective price.

Good Cut: A fine diamond, offering significant sparkle and brilliance. This grade represents excellent value for money.

Diamonds which have a GIA or EGL Report are graded according to the scale of those organizations.

What Cut Is Best For You?

Diamond cut, within a range of recommended guidelines, is mostly a matter of personal preference. What looks beautiful to you may look less so to someone else. Some people may prefer the look of a larger table, for instance, while others will prefer a smaller table. At Israel-Diamonds we offer photos of the actual diamonds so you can decide for yourself.

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Diamond Cuts What to Look For In a Good Diamond Cut

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Of the four Cs which determine quality, diamond cut is the most complex to understand as well as the most important characteristic in choosing a diamond. The cut refers not only to the diamond's proportions and symmetry, but also to the delicate crafting of each and every facet.

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Influencing how people move through space is choreography - maybe even behaviour, rather than just focussing on movement. I.e. how people 'act' within a space.

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What if desire is an embodied experience that fuels artistic expression?

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What if desire is an embodied experience that fuels artistic expression?

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How does audience participation contribute to expanding personal perspectives related to the overall human experience?

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How does audience participation contribute to expanding personal perspectives related to the overall human experience?

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October 29th 2021 I performed a short piece of roughly 30 minutes that used the audience to create a spoken word text and film. This was achieved by setting tasks that built towards the final product. I am continuing this research, because it worked very well! As the performer/maker I was the facilitator. The experiment took place at Islemunda.

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How to involve an audience and create together in the moment and somehow capture this

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How do the senses relate to desire?

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What would happen if we would create artefacts that we would like for people to find in the future? What do we want these artefacts to say about our 'culture' and our customs?
I like the idea of being able to create something lasting that says something about the present.

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Where do norms concerning the public space come from? Who owns public space. What gives people status within the public space? How do we create safe spaces? How do we create queer spaces? Or at least spaces that are safe for queer people?

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Multi facetted identities
Intersectionality
Privileges surrounding identities
The outward projection of identity - taste and aesthetics

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Can a thought be a work of art?
Do thoughts have beauty?

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Through Shai I found Bart and I love this performance art piece.

He's done a lot for/with the Dutch National Ballet and Nanine Lining.

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Liquified

Hess is renowned for his fascination with reinventing the depiction of the body through the veil of technological advancement. This fascination took shape in his research series named Liquified. The material research emerged partly after a desire to use the Liquify filter in Photoshop, where the body appears to melt into a physical reality.

Hess developed a wide range of slime-like substances, varying in color and thickness. The materials were draped on a model creating semitransparent blobs and draperies that blur the line between material and skin. Hess captured his new, liquid body in a series of images and performances which got noticed by photographer Nick Knight who shot the material for the album cover of Lady Gaga's Born This Way.

"The shoot was a performance on it's own where I draped the slime over a hat Lady Gaga was wearing. The beautiful thing about it was that each image was a just a fraction of a second because the material was constantly evolving. It was truly magical when someone on set put a van on to create movement in her hair, instead a giant slime bubble appeared from her armpit. Both the dynamic materials and way of working made the project so exciting for me. "

Liquified

Liquified Research

Lady Gaga by Nick Knight

Fragment from Silver

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Liquified Hess is renowned for his fascination with reinventing the depiction of the body through the veil of technological advancement. This fascination took shape in his research series named Liquified. The material research emerged partly after a desire to use the Liquify filter in Photoshop, where the body appears to melt into a physical reality.

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Incredible use of body latex to find a new aesthetic

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Emulsified liquid latex stretches over bodies and fermented dough drips from skin in this movie by graduate textile designer Shai Langen.

Shai Langen created a collection of materials by combining liquid latex with calcium nitrate for his graduation project Chimera, completed at the HKU Utrecht School of Arts.

Bart Hess recruits public to create bespoke textile production line in Milan installation

The materials were added to textiles worn to look like synthetic fungi growing over the skin.

"I've been experimenting with the shapes that form through dripping latex into the emulsion of water and calcium nitrate," Langen told Dezeen.

Calcium nitrate is used in the balloon, gloves and condom industries to create a uniform film around a mould.

"By changing the viscosity of both the latex and the emulsion I was able to create different outcomes," said Langen.

Water surface tension, ratio of calcium nitrate to water and the drying process all contribute to the properties of the finished materials.

Each piece in the collection was formed in a different thickness and using a different dripping technique.

"With the different techniques I created a collection that resembles cellular structures, slime moulds and fungi-like textures, which are created and formed like living and growing organisms," said Langen.

The first material was created by dripping latex into the emulsion so it coagulated into cell-like droplets. The drops were then applied to a full-body spandex Morphsuit.

Oppositely, dripping the emulsion onto a thin layer of the liquid latex formed a stretchy material that reveals its pattern under tension.

Dropping globs of thickened latex from a height onto a thin layer of the emulsion resulted in circular scales, which were then positioned in an overlapping pattern.

Another piece was developed without the calcium nitrate, by dipping hardware nails in latex to make glossy stalactites which were then glued onto a fabric.

The final material is a coloured, fermented dough that is smeared over the body then stretched and pulled apart by movements of the wearer.

"These textures are both organic and synthetic, exploring the boundary between living matter and non-living matter," said the Amsterdam-based designer. "Chimera plays with the concept where the organic is overgrown with the synthetic, where natural processes mutate the skin into fungi like textures."

Another designer that has experimented with liquid latex is Bart Hess, who encouraged members of the public to drip the material onto sheets of rubber for his installation in Milan earlier this year.

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Shai Langen covers bodies in liquid latex

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Emulsified liquid latex stretches over bodies and fermented dough drips from skin in this movie by graduate textile designer Shai Langen. Shai Langen created a collection of materials by combining liquid latex with calcium nitrate for his graduation project Chimera, completed at the HKU Utrecht School of Arts.

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Intensive 1: week 2 day 4 - first map of topics

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Intensive 1: week 2 day 4 - first map of topics

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Announcements

Current Issue

Vol. 7 No. 1 (2021): Somaesthetics and Phenomenology

"What is the difference of somaesthetics and phenomenology?" This is the question a teacher of body philosophy encounters when s/he presents somaesthetics, the less known of these two approaches to the philosophy of the body.
The answer might look simple. Phenomenology, when focused on the body, has been the main academic tradition of philosophical body-consciousness. Phenomenologists have mainly aspired to stay academic and theoretical with an epistemological objective and the approach has not originally been established for practical use. Somaesthetics, a much later concept, has been right from the beginning fueled by an aspiration to lead theory and bodily practices into a dialogue - where both could enhance their (for the body often just tacit) knowledge with the help of the other. And if phenomenology, although later actively adapted in e.g. Japan and South Korea, is very (broadly speaking) Central European by its nature, somaesthetics, with roots in the pragmatist philosophy that developed in the United States, has right from its very beginnings, in the early 2000s, encouraged dialogue between different philosophical traditions, both 'Western' and 'non-Western'.
However, the issue becomes complicated when looking at the communities working on and with the approaches. Some phenomenologists today are actually dancers, karateka and/or yogi, others apply phenomenology to e.g. robotics and interface and interaction design, and so actually put phenomenology into practice in a way somaesthetics has made programmatic for itself. Contrary, many who write about somaesthetics are actually classical academic philosophers in the sense that their main bodily practice is to sit behind a desk and drink (too much) coffee.
Both traditions take pride in their roots, phenomenology in the philosophical springs of the Brentano-Husserl connection (without forgetting the threads of reflections that have made e.g. René Descartes a central figure in the corpus), and somaesthetics in Dewey's philosophy of experience and his moderately experimental attitude (without forgetting the way already Peirce and James built approaches to the body). Practically, many who are into phenomenology have not actually much looked at its very beginnings (although the interest in Husserl is somehow rising in importance again), and they start from Merleau-Ponty or Heidegger. The same way, for example Dewey's original life work is for many somaestheticians known only through the work of later thinkers of pragmatism, most notably of course Richard Shusterman, the initiator of the discussion of somaesthetics.
What could a comparative and/or critical and/or synthetizing inquiry into the relationship of these two approaches bring forth? What are the key differences (historical sources, practical writing, applications) - and could somaesthetics and phenomenology profit from having more philosophical dialogue? What about their very origins? Pragmatism could historically be seen as an offspring of earlier continental philosophy that was imported to the new world through European diaspora. Dewey also went to China for a period and applied some of his Eastern learnings to his philosophy of art and phenomenology had already in Husserl an Asian (Japanese) connection that became stronger with Heidegger (who, besides his dialogues with Japanese thinkers, started to translate Tao Te Ching). Has Asian thinking shaped the emergence of both philosophies in a way that unites them in some respect already quite early - and to what extent? The same could be asked about the continental European philosophies that were imported to Harvard, the birthplace of pragmatism, but served also as a background to the evolution of phenomenology. Peirce attacked Cartesians that dominated Harvard's philosophical atmosphere, but Husserl engaged in reinterpreting Descartes. Still the source is the same.
One of the original main sources for the birth and early development of phenomenology, the work (i.e. teaching and research) of psychologist and philosopher Franz Brentano, featured intense reflection on the unity of consciousness (see, e.g. Brentano 1995, see, e.g. 57). This same awe about the way we are able to keep focus and to feel mentally centralized, despite all fragmentation, despite being bombarded with random impulses, thoughts and multi-faceted stimulation - in other words, these 'problems of oneness and unity occupied [Edmund] Husserl throughout all the phases of his philosophical development' (Sawicki 2001). Husserl, like Sigmund Freud (another theorist of the mind), was Brentano's student, and the philosopher who appropriated Brentano's term 'phenomenology', which was originally reserved for descriptive psychology. Husserl used it for his new take on scientific thinking by adapting Brentano's view that being is intentional - and, e.g., challenging his students and readers to take up a new craft of philosophy by systematically dropping perceptional prejudices through reduction (see e.g. Husserl 1990), i.e. through taking away all uncertainties from our accounts of what we sense (which could of course also be read as also one new way to gain more focus for perception and experience).
According to Daniel Dennett, unity of consciousness is needed for survival. Unity of consciousness is, though, still over-emphasized, according to Dennett, as we are not as much in control of our consciousness as we might think, and nor are we even able to grasp it strongly enough to claim possession of it (see e.g. Dennett 1991). It might be that Dennett's comment to the phenomenologists is true, and that (to make a banal point) those who were able to focus better were more often able to pass their genes to the next generation, but, still, the way 'things' sometimes just 'come together' into focus, in a way that also feels remarkable, has perhaps been a key experience that has fueled the active, systematic introspection of both Brentano and Husserl. A pragmatist reader might also easily think that it shares some key components with Dewey's idea of an experience.
The way we are able, with all our fragmented impulses, thoughts and multi-faceted stimulation, to sometimes intensify and build focused experience, feeling not just mentally centralized but also somatically centralized, is a main tenet in Dewey's aspiration to theorize moments when all our fragmentated memories, impulses, and mental and sensuous stimuli come together in an experience (Dewey 1980). He simply left the narrow intellect behind, and went for a broader unity, but also drags in the organic rhythms of the body - and accentuates memories, (aesthetic) skills and the active construction of the experience. One cannot of course equate consciousness and experience, but both threads of thinking share the same interest in mental focus.
Both phenomenology and pragmatism have mainly worked without empirical data, and they have focused on philosophical descriptions (and introspection), argumentation and speculation (which I have nothing against). If (the significantly later) Dewey described activities as different as cleaning the house and gazing at paintings to make his point, while never particularly detailing the organic rhythms of the body that he mentioned several times, and not being interested in working out taxonomies of holistic experience, Brentano worked only, and restrictively, in the sphere of the mind. The body, though, gained increasingly focus in the work of the line of phenomenologists that starts from Edmund Husserl.

View All Issues

Somaesthetics is an interdisciplinary research product devoted to the critical study and meliorative cultivation of the experience and use of the living body (or soma) as a site of sensory appreciation (aesthesis) and creative self-stylization. An ameliorative discipline of both theory and practice, somaesthetics seeks to enrich not only our discursive knowledge of the body but also our lived somatic experience and performance; it aims to improve the meaning, understanding, efficacy, and beauty of our movements and of the environments to which our actions contribute and from which they also derive their energies and significance. To pursue these aims, somaesthetics is concerned with a wide diversity of knowledge forms, discourses, social practices and institutions, cultural traditions and values, and bodily disciplines that structure (or could improve) such somatic understanding and cultivation, and it is therefore an interdisciplinary project, in which theory and practice are closely connected and reciprocally nourish each other. It is not limited to one theoretical field, academic or professional vocabulary, cultural ideology, or particular set of bodily disciplines. Rather it aims to provide an overarching theoretical structure and a set of basic and versatile conceptual tools to enable a more fruitful interaction and integration of the very diverse forms of somatic knowledge currently being practiced and pursued. There is an impressive, even overwhelming abundance of discourse about the body in many disciplines of contemporary theory and commercial enterprise. But such somatic discourse typically lacks two important features. First, a structuring overview or architectonic that could integrate their very different discourses into a more productively coherent or interrelated field. It would be useful to have a broad framework (which does not mean a unified, highly consistent system) that could connect, for example, the discourse of biopolitics to the therapies of bioenergetics, the neuroscience of hand gestures to their aesthetic meaning in Nõ theater. The second feature lacking in most academic discourse on embodiment is a clear pragmatic orientation - something that the individual can clearly employ or apply to his or her life in terms of disciplines of improved somatic practice. Somaesthetics offers a way to address both these deficiencies.

The journal therefore welcomes contributions exploring the field of somaesthetics through one -or more- of the many disciplines that already inform this field: philosophy, aesthetics, arts and design research, technology studies, somatic, health, and social sciences, history, physiology, psychology and pedagogy.

The Journal of Somaesthetics will be published twice a year, and each issue will be principally structured on a particular theme or topic. Supported by a distinguished multidisciplinary and international editorial board of advisors,

The Journal of Somaesthetics is edited by Prof. Falk Heinrich (Denmark), Prof. Richard Shusterman (USA), Else-Marie Bukdhahl (Denmark), Prof. Stefan Valdemar Snævarr (Norway), Professor Dag Svanaes (Norway), Senior Lecturer Max Ryynänen (Finland), Prof. Arto Haapala (Finland), Anne Tarvainen (Finland), Prof. Mie Buhl (Denmark), Associate Prof. Cumhur Erkut (Denmark), Associate Professor Sofia Dahl (Denmark, Sweden), Professor Kristina Höök (Sweden), Professor Palle Dahlstedt (Sweden), Associate Professor Yanping Gao (China), Professor Mathias Girel (France), Professor Leszek Koczanowicz (Poland).
Relevant Links The Somaesthetics Google Group The Center for Body, Mind, and Culture http://www.interaction-design.org/ Somaesthetics Wiktionary

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Announcements Vol. 7 No. 1 (2021): Somaesthetics and Phenomenology "What is the difference of somaesthetics and phenomenology?" This is the question a teacher of body philosophy encounters when s/he presents somaesthetics, the less known of these two approaches to the philosophy of the body.The answer might look simple.

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1. Objectivity and Subjectivity

Perhaps the most familiar basic issue in the theory of beauty is whether beauty is subjective-located 'in the eye of the beholder'-or rather an objective feature of beautiful things. A pure version of either of these positions seems implausible, for reasons we will examine, and many attempts have been made to split the difference or incorporate insights of both subjectivist and objectivist accounts. Ancient and medieval accounts for the most part located beauty outside of anyone's particular experiences. Nevertheless, that beauty is subjective was also a commonplace from the time of the sophists. By the eighteenth century, Hume could write as follows, expressing one 'species of philosophy':

Beauty is no quality in things themselves: It exists merely in the mind which contemplates them; and each mind perceives a different beauty. One person may even perceive deformity, where another is sensible of beauty; and every individual ought to acquiesce in his own sentiment, without pretending to regulate those of others. (Hume 1757, 136)

And Kant launches his discussion of the matter in The Critique of Judgment (the Third Critique) at least as emphatically:

The judgment of taste is therefore not a judgment of cognition, and is consequently not logical but aesthetical, by which we understand that whose determining ground can be no other than subjective. Every reference of representations, even that of sensations, may be objective (and then it signifies the real [element] of an empirical representation), save only the reference to the feeling of pleasure and pain, by which nothing in the object is signified, but through which there is a feeling in the subject as it is affected by the representation. (Kant 1790, section 1)

However, if beauty is entirely subjective-that is, if anything that anyone holds to be or experiences as beautiful is beautiful (as James Kirwan, for example, asserts)-then it seems that the word has no meaning, or that we are not communicating anything when we call something beautiful except perhaps an approving personal attitude. In addition, though different persons can of course differ in particular judgments, it is also obvious that our judgments coincide to a remarkable extent: it would be odd or perverse for any person to deny that a perfect rose or a dramatic sunset was beautiful. And it is possible actually to disagree and argue about whether something is beautiful, or to try to show someone that something is beautiful, or learn from someone else why it is.

On the other hand, it seems senseless to say that beauty has no connection to subjective response or that it is entirely objective. That would seem to entail, for example, that a world with no perceivers could be beautiful or ugly, or perhaps that beauty could be detected by scientific instruments. Even if it could be, beauty would seem to be connected to subjective response, and though we may argue about whether something is beautiful, the idea that one's experiences of beauty might be disqualified as simply inaccurate or false might arouse puzzlement as well as hostility. We often regard other people's taste, even when it differs from our own, as provisionally entitled to some respect, as we may not, for example, in cases of moral, political, or factual opinions. All plausible accounts of beauty connect it to a pleasurable or profound or loving response, even if they do not locate beauty purely in the eye of the beholder.

Until the eighteenth century, most philosophical accounts of beauty treated it as an objective quality: they located it in the beautiful object itself or in the qualities of that object. In De Veritate Religione, Augustine asks explicitly whether things are beautiful because they give delight, or whether they give delight because they are beautiful; he emphatically opts for the second (Augustine, 247). Plato's account in the Symposium and Plotinus's in the Enneads connect beauty to a response of love and desire, but locate beauty itself in the realm of the Forms, and the beauty of particular objects in their participation in the Form. Indeed, Plotinus's account in one of its moments makes beauty a matter of what we might term 'formedness': having the definite shape characteristic of the kind of thing the object is.

We hold that all the loveliness of this world comes by communion in Ideal-Form. All shapelessness whose kind admits of pattern and form, as long as it remains outside of Reason and Idea, is ugly from that very isolation from the Divine-Thought. And this is the Absolute Ugly: an ugly thing is something that has not been entirely mastered by pattern, that is by Reason, the Matter not yielding at all points and in all respects to Ideal-Form. But where the Ideal-Form has entered, it has grouped and coordinated what from a diversity of parts was to become a unity: it has rallied confusion into co-operation: it has made the sum one harmonious coherence: for the Idea is a unity and what it moulds must come into unity as far as multiplicity may. (Plotinus, 22 [ Ennead I, 6])

In this account, beauty is at least as objective as any other concept, or indeed takes on a certain ontological priority as more real than particular Forms: it is a sort of Form of Forms.

Though Plato and Aristotle disagree on what beauty is, they both regard it as objective in the sense that it is not localized in the response of the beholder. The classical conception ( see below) treats beauty as a matter of instantiating definite proportions or relations among parts, sometimes expressed in mathematical ratios, for example the 'golden section.' The sculpture known as 'The Canon,' by Polykleitos (fifth/fourth century BCE), was held up as a model of harmonious proportion to be emulated by students and masters alike: beauty could be reliably achieved by reproducing its objective proportions. Nevertheless, it is conventional in ancient treatments of the topic also to pay tribute to the pleasures of beauty, often described in quite ecstatic terms, as in Plotinus: "This is the spirit that Beauty must ever induce: wonderment and a delicious trouble, longing and love and a trembling that is all delight" (Plotinus 23, [ Ennead I, 3]).

At latest by the eighteenth century, however, and particularly in the British Isles, beauty was associated with pleasure in a somewhat different way: pleasure was held to be not the effect but the origin of beauty. This was influenced, for example, by Locke's distinction between primary and secondary qualities. Locke and the other empiricists treated color (which is certainly one source or locus of beauty), for example, as a 'phantasm' of the mind, as a set of qualities dependent on subjective response, located in the perceiving mind rather than of the world outside the mind. Without perceivers of a certain sort, there would be no colors. One argument for this was the variation in color experiences between people. For example, some people are color-blind, and to a person with jaundice much of the world allegedly takes on a yellow cast. In addition, the same object is perceived as having different colors by the same the person under different conditions: at noon and midnight, for example. Such variations are conspicuous in experiences of beauty as well.

Nevertheless, eighteenth-century philosophers such as Hume and Kant perceived that something important was lost when beauty was treated merely as a subjective state. They saw, for example, that controversies often arise about the beauty of particular things, such as works of art and literature, and that in such controversies, reasons can sometimes be given and will sometimes be found convincing. They saw, as well, that if beauty is completely relative to individual experiencers, it ceases to be a paramount value, or even recognizable as a value at all across persons or societies.

Hume's "Of the Standard of Taste" and Kant's Critique Of Judgment attempt to find ways through what has been termed 'the antinomy of taste.' Taste is proverbially subjective: de gustibus non est disputandum (about taste there is no disputing). On the other hand, we do frequently dispute about matters of taste, and some persons are held up as exemplars of good taste or of tastelessness. Some people's tastes appear vulgar or ostentatious, for example. Some people's taste is too exquisitely refined, while that of others is crude, naive, or non-existent. Taste, that is, appears to be both subjective and objective: that is the antinomy.

Both Hume and Kant, as we have seen, begin by acknowledging that taste or the ability to detect or experience beauty is fundamentally subjective, that there is no standard of taste in the sense that the Canon was held to be, that if people did not experience certain kinds of pleasure, there would be no beauty. Both acknowledge that reasons can count, however, and that some tastes are better than others. In different ways, they both treat judgments of beauty neither precisely as purely subjective nor precisely as objective but, as we might put it, as inter-subjective or as having a social and cultural aspect, or as conceptually entailing an inter-subjective claim to validity.

Hume's account focuses on the history and condition of the observer as he or she makes the judgment of taste. Our practices with regard to assessing people's taste entail that judgments of taste that reflect idiosyncratic bias, ignorance, or superficiality are not as good as judgments that reflect wide-ranging acquaintance with various objects of judgment and are unaffected by arbitrary prejudices. Hume moves from considering what makes a thing beautiful to what makes a critic credible. "Strong sense, united to delicate sentiment, improved by practice, perfected by comparison, and cleared of all prejudice, can alone entitle critics to this valuable character; and the joint verdict of such, wherever they are to be found, is the true standard of taste and beauty" ("Of the Standard of Taste" 1757, 144).

Hume argues further that the verdicts of critics who possess those qualities tend to coincide, and approach unanimity in the long run, which accounts, for example, for the enduring veneration of the works of Homer or Milton. So the test of time, as assessed by the verdicts of the best critics, functions as something analogous to an objective standard. Though judgments of taste remain fundamentally subjective, and though certain contemporary works or objects may appear irremediably controversial, the long-run consensus of people who are in a good position to judge functions analogously to an objective standard and renders such standards unnecessary even if they could be identified. Though we cannot directly find a standard of beauty that sets out the qualities that a thing must possess in order to be beautiful, we can describe the qualities of a good critic or a tasteful person. Then the long-run consensus of such persons is the practical standard of taste and the means of justifying judgments about beauty.

Kant similarly concedes that taste is fundamentally subjective, that every judgment of beauty is based on a personal experience, and that such judgments vary from person to person.

By a principle of taste I mean a principle under the condition of which we could subsume the concept of the object, and thus infer, by means of a syllogism, that the object is beautiful. But that is absolutely impossible. For I must immediately feel the pleasure in the representation of the object, and of that I can be persuaded by no grounds of proof whatever. Although, as Hume says, all critics can reason more plausibly than cooks, yet the same fate awaits them. They cannot expect the determining ground of their judgment [to be derived] from the force of the proofs, but only from the reflection of the subject upon its own proper state of pleasure or pain. (Kant 1790, section 34)

But the claim that something is beautiful has more content merely than that it gives me pleasure. Something might please me for reasons entirely eccentric to myself: I might enjoy a bittersweet experience before a portrait of my grandmother, for example, or the architecture of a house might remind me of where I grew up. "No one cares about that," says Kant (1790, section 7): no one begrudges me such experiences, but they make no claim to guide or correspond to the experiences of others.

By contrast, the judgment that something is beautiful, Kant argues, is a disinterested judgment. It does not respond to my idiosyncrasies, or at any rate if I am aware that it does, I will no longer take myself to be experiencing the beauty per se of the thing in question. Somewhat as in Hume-whose treatment Kant evidently had in mind-one must be unprejudiced to come to a genuine judgment of taste, and Kant gives that idea a very elaborate interpretation: the judgment must be made independently of the normal range of human desires-economic and sexual desires, for instance, which are examples of our 'interests' in this sense. If one is walking through a museum and admiring the paintings because they would be extremely expensive were they to come up for auction, for example, or wondering whether one could steal and fence them, one is not having an experience of the beauty of the paintings at all. One must focus on the form of the mental representation of the object for its own sake, as it is in itself. Kant summarizes this as the thought that insofar as one is having an experience of the beauty of something, one is indifferent to its existence. One takes pleasure, rather, in its sheer representation in one's experience:

Now, when the question is whether something is beautiful, we do not want to know whether anything depends or can depend on the existence of the thing, either for myself or anyone else, but how we judge it by mere observation (intuition or reflection). ... We easily see that, in saying it is beautiful, and in showing that I have taste, I am concerned, not with that in which I depend on the existence of the object, but with that which I make out of this representation in myself. Everyone must admit that a judgement about beauty, in which the least interest mingles, is very partial and is not a pure judgement of taste. (Kant 1790, section 2)

One important source of the concept of aesthetic disinterestedness is the Third Earl of Shaftesbury's dialogue The Moralists, where the argument is framed in terms of a natural landscape: if you are looking at a beautiful valley primarily as a valuable real estate opportunity, you are not seeing it for its own sake, and cannot fully experience its beauty. If you are looking at a lovely woman and considering her as a possible sexual conquest, you are not able to experience her beauty in the fullest or purest sense; you are distracted from the form as represented in your experience. And Shaftesbury, too, localizes beauty to the representational capacity of the mind. (Shaftesbury 1738, 222)

For Kant, some beauties are dependent-relative to the sort of thing the object is-and others are free or absolute. A beautiful ox would be an ugly horse, but abstract textile designs, for example, may be beautiful without a reference group or "concept," and flowers please whether or not we connect them to their practical purposes or functions in plant reproduction (Kant 1790, section 16). The idea in particular that free beauty is completely separated from practical use and that the experiencer of it is not concerned with the actual existence of the object leads Kant to conclude that absolute or free beauty is found in the form or design of the object, or as Clive Bell (1914) put it, in the arrangement of lines and colors (in the case of painting). By the time Bell writes in the early twentieth century, however, beauty is out of fashion in the arts, and Bell frames his view not in terms of beauty but in terms of a general formalist conception of aesthetic value.

Since in reaching a genuine judgment of taste one is aware that one is not responding to anything idiosyncratic in oneself, Kant asserts (1790, section 8), one will reach the conclusion that anyone similarly situated should have the same experience: that is, one will presume that there ought to be nothing to distinguish one person's judgment from another's (though in fact there may be). Built conceptually into the judgment of taste is the assertion that anyone similarly situated ought to have the same experience and reach the same judgment. Thus, built into judgments of taste is a 'universalization' somewhat analogous to the universalization that Kant associates with ethical judgments. In ethical judgments, however, the universalization is objective: if the judgment is true, then it is objectively the case that everyone ought to act on the maxim according to which one acts. In the case of aesthetic judgments, however, the judgment remains subjective, but necessarily contains the 'demand' that everyone should reach the same judgment. The judgment conceptually entails a claim to inter-subjective validity. This accounts for the fact that we do very often argue about judgments of taste, and that we find tastes that are different than our own defective.

The influence of this series of thoughts on philosophical aesthetics has been immense. One might mention related approaches taken by such figures as Schopenhauer (1818), Hanslick (1891), Bullough (1912), and Croce (1928), for example. A somewhat similar though more adamantly subjectivist line is taken by Santayana, who defines beauty as 'objectified pleasure.' The judgment of something that it is beautiful responds to the fact that it induces a certain sort of pleasure; but this pleasure is attributed to the object, as though the object itself were having subjective states.

We have now reached our definition of beauty, which, in the terms of our successive analysis and narrowing of the conception, is value positive, intrinsic, and objectified. Or, in less technical language, Beauty is pleasure regarded as the quality of a thing. ... Beauty is a value, that is, it is not a perception of a matter of fact or of a relation: it is an emotion, an affection of our volitional and appreciative nature. An object cannot be beautiful if it can give pleasure to nobody: a beauty to which all men were forever indifferent is a contradiction in terms. ... Beauty is therefore a positive value that is intrinsic; it is a pleasure. (Santayana 1896, 50-51)

It is much as though one were attributing malice to a balky object or device. The object causes certain frustrations and is then ascribed an agency or a kind of subjective agenda that would account for its causing those effects. Now though Santayana thought the experience of beauty could be profound or could even be the meaning of life, this account appears to make beauty a sort of mistake: one attributes subjective states (indeed, one's own) to a thing which in many instances is not capable of having subjective states.

It is worth saying that Santayana's treatment of the topic in The Sense of Beauty (1896) was the last major account offered in English for some time, possibly because, once beauty has been admitted to be entirely subjective, much less when it is held to rest on a sort of mistake, there seems little more to be said. What stuck from Hume's and Kant's treatments was the subjectivity, not the heroic attempts to temper it. If beauty is a subjective pleasure, it would seem to have no higher status than anything that entertains, amuses, or distracts; it seems odd or ridiculous to regard it as being comparable in importance to truth or justice, for example. And the twentieth century also abandoned beauty as the dominant goal of the arts, again in part because its trivialization in theory led artists to believe that they ought to pursue more urgent and more serious projects. More significantly, as we will see below, the political and economic associations of beauty with power tended to discredit the whole concept for much of the twentieth century. This decline is explored eloquently in Arthur Danto's book The Abuse of Beauty (2003).

However, there was a revival of interest in beauty in something like the classical philosophical sense in both art and philosophy beginning in the 1990s, to some extent centered on the work of art critic Dave Hickey, who declared that "the issue of the 90s will be beauty" (see Hickey 1993), as well as feminist-oriented reconstruals or reappropriations of the concept (see Brand 2000, Irigaray 1993). Several theorists made new attempts to address the antinomy of taste. To some extent, such approaches echo G.E. Moore's: "To say that a thing is beautiful is to say, not indeed that it is itself good, but that it is a necessary element in something which is: to prove that a thing is truly beautiful is to prove that a whole, to which it bears a particular relation as a part, is truly good" (Moore 1903, 201). One interpretation of this would be that what is fundamentally valuable is the situation in which the object and the person experiencing are both embedded; the value of beauty might include both features of the beautiful object and the pleasures of the experiencer.

Similarly, Crispin Sartwell in his book Six Names of Beauty (2004), attributes beauty neither exclusively to the subject nor to the object, but to the relation between them, and even more widely also to the situation or environment in which they are both embedded. He points out that when we attribute beauty to the night sky, for instance, we do not take ourselves simply to be reporting a state of pleasure in ourselves; we are turned outward toward it; we are celebrating the real world. On the other hand, if there were no perceivers capable of experiencing such things, there would be no beauty. Beauty, rather, emerges in situations in which subject and object are juxtaposed and connected.

Alexander Nehamas, in Only a Promise of Happiness (2007), characterizes beauty as an invitation to further experiences, a way that things invite us in, while also possibly fending us off. The beautiful object invites us to explore and interpret, but it also requires us to explore and interpret: beauty is not to be regarded as an instantaneously apprehensible feature of surface. And Nehamas, like Hume and Kant, though in another register, considers beauty to have an irreducibly social dimension. Beauty is something we share, or something we want to share, and shared experiences of beauty are particularly intense forms of communication. Thus, the experience of beauty is not primarily within the skull of the experiencer, but connects observers and objects such as works of art and literature in communities of appreciation.

Aesthetic judgment, I believe, never commands universal agreement, and neither a beautiful object nor a work of art ever engages a catholic community. Beauty creates smaller societies, no less important or serious because they are partial, and, from the point of view of its members, each one is orthodox-orthodox, however, without thinking of all others as heresies. ... What is involved is less a matter of understanding and more a matter of hope, of establishing a community that centers around it-a community, to be sure, whose boundaries are constantly shifting and whose edges are never stable. (Nehamas 2007, 80-81)

2. Philosophical Conceptions of Beauty

Each of the views sketched below has many expressions, some of which may be incompatible with one another. In many or perhaps most of the actual formulations, elements of more than one such account are present. For example, Kant's treatment of beauty in terms of disinterested pleasure has obvious elements of hedonism, while the ecstatic neo-Platonism of Plotinus includes not only the unity of the object, but also the fact that beauty calls out love or adoration. However, it is also worth remarking how divergent or even incompatible with one another many of these views are: for example, some philosophers associate beauty exclusively with use, others precisely with uselessness.

2.1 The Classical Conception

The art historian Heinrich Wölfflin gives a fundamental description of the classical conception of beauty, as embodied in Italian Renaissance painting and architecture:

The central idea of the Italian Renaissance is that of perfect proportion. In the human figure as in the edifice, this epoch strove to achieve the image of perfection at rest within itself. Every form developed to self-existent being, the whole freely co-ordinated: nothing but independently living parts.... In the system of a classic composition, the single parts, however firmly they may be rooted in the whole, maintain a certain independence. It is not the anarchy of primitive art: the part is conditioned by the whole, and yet does not cease to have its own life. For the spectator, that presupposes an articulation, a progress from part to part, which is a very different operation from perception as a whole. (Wölfflin 1932, 9-10, 15)

The classical conception is that beauty consists of an arrangement of integral parts into a coherent whole, according to proportion, harmony, symmetry, and similar notions. This is a primordial Western conception of beauty, and is embodied in classical and neo-classical architecture, sculpture, literature, and music wherever they appear. Aristotle says in the Poetics that "to be beautiful, a living creature, and every whole made up of parts, must ... present a certain order in its arrangement of parts" (Aristotle, volume 2, 2322 [1450b34]). And in the Metaphysics: "The chief forms of beauty are order and symmetry and definiteness, which the mathematical sciences demonstrate in a special degree" (Aristotle, volume 2, 1705 [1078a36]). This view, as Aristotle implies, is sometimes boiled down to a mathematical formula, such as the golden section, but it need not be thought of in such strict terms. The conception is exemplified above all in such texts as Euclid's Elements and such works of architecture as the Parthenon, and, again, by the Canon of the sculptor Polykleitos (late fifth/early fourth century BCE).

The Canon was not only a statue deigned to display perfect proportion, but a now-lost treatise on beauty. The physician Galen characterizes the text as specifying, for example, the proportions of "the finger to the finger, and of all the fingers to the metacarpus, and the wrist, and of all these to the forearm, and of the forearm to the arm, in fact of everything to everything.... For having taught us in that treatise all the symmetriae of the body, Polyclitus supported his treatise with a work, having made the statue of a man according to his treatise, and having called the statue itself, like the treatise, the Canon" (quoted in Pollitt 1974, 15). It is important to note that the concept of 'symmetry' in classical texts is distinct from and richer than its current use to indicate bilateral mirroring. It also refers precisely to the sorts of harmonious and measurable proportions among the parts characteristic of objects that are beautiful in the classical sense, which carried also a moral weight. For example, in the Sophist (228c-e), Plato describes virtuous souls as symmetrical.

The ancient Roman architect Vitruvius epitomizes the classical conception in central, and extremely influential, formulations, both in its complexities and, appropriately enough, in its underlying unity:

Architecture consists of Order, which in Greek is called taxis, and arrangement, which the Greeks name diathesis, and of Proportion and Symmetry and Decor and Distribution which in the Greeks is called oeconomia.

Order is the balanced adjustment of the details of the work separately, and as to the whole, the arrangement of the proportion with a view to a symmetrical result.

Proportion implies a graceful semblance: the suitable display of details in their context. This is attained when the details of the work are of a height suitable to their breadth, of a breadth suitable to their length; in a word, when everything has a symmetrical correspondence.

Symmetry also is the appropriate harmony arising out of the details of the work itself: the correspondence of each given detail to the form of the design as a whole. As in the human body, from cubit, foot, palm, inch and other small parts come the symmetric quality of eurhythmy. (Vitruvius, 26-27)

Aquinas, in a typically Aristotelian pluralist formulation, says that "There are three requirements for beauty. Firstly, integrity or perfection-for if something is impaired it is ugly. Then there is due proportion or consonance. And also clarity: whence things that are brightly coloured are called beautiful" ( Summa Theologica I, 39, 8).

Francis Hutcheson in the eighteenth century gives what may well be the clearest expression of the view: "What we call Beautiful in Objects, to speak in the Mathematical Style, seems to be in a compound Ratio of Uniformity and Variety; so that where the Uniformity of Bodys is equal, the Beauty is as the Variety; and where the Variety is equal, the Beauty is as the Uniformity" (Hutcheson 1725, 29). Indeed, proponents of the view often speak "in the Mathematical Style." Hutcheson goes on to adduce mathematical formulae, and specifically the propositions of Euclid, as the most beautiful objects (in another echo of Aristotle), though he also rapturously praises nature, with its massive complexity underlain by universal physical laws as revealed, for example, by Newton. There is beauty, he says, "In the Knowledge of some great Principles, or universal Forces, from which innumerable Effects do flow. Such is Gravitation, in Sir Isaac Newton's Scheme" (Hutcheson 1725, 38).

A very compelling series of refutations of and counter-examples to the idea that beauty can be a matter of any specific proportions between parts, and hence to the classical conception, is given by Edmund Burke in A Philosophical Enquiry into the Origin of our Ideas of the Beautiful and the Sublime:

Turning our eyes to the vegetable kingdom, we find nothing there so beautiful as flowers; but flowers are of every sort of shape, and every sort of disposition; they are turned and fashioned into an infinite variety of forms. ... The rose is a large flower, yet it grows upon a small shrub; the flower of the apple is very small, and it grows upon a large tree; yet the rose and the apple blossom are both beautiful. ... The swan, confessedly a beautiful bird, has a neck longer than the rest of its body, and but a very short tail; is this a beautiful proportion? we must allow that it is. But what shall we say of the peacock, who has comparatively but a short neck, with a tail longer than the neck and the rest of the body taken together? ... There are some parts of the human body, that are observed to hold certain proportions to each other; but before it can be proved, that the efficient cause of beauty lies in these, it must be shewn, that wherever these are found exact, the person to whom they belong is beautiful. ... For my part, I have at several times very carefully examined many of these proportions, and found them to hold very nearly, or altogether alike in many subjects, which were not only very different from one another, but where one has been very beautiful, and the other very remote from beauty. ... You may assign any proportions you please to every part of the of the human body; and I undertake, that a painter shall observe them all, and notwithstanding produce, if he pleases, a very ugly figure. (Burke 1757, 84-89)

2.2 The Idealist Conception

There are many ways to interpret Plato's relation to classical aesthetics. The political system sketched in the Republic characterizes justice in terms of the relation of part and whole. But Plato was also no doubt a dissident in classical culture, and the account of beauty that is expressed specifically in the Symposium -perhaps the key Socratic text for neo-Platonism and for the idealist conception of beauty-expresses an aspiration toward beauty as perfect unity.

In the midst of a drinking party, Socrates recounts the teachings of his instructress, one Diotima, on matters of love. She connects the experience of beauty to the erotic or the desire to reproduce (Plato, 558-59 [ Symposium 206c-207e]). But the desire to reproduce is associated in turn with a desire for the immortal or eternal: "And why all this longing for propagation? Because this is the one deathless and eternal element in our mortality. And since we have agreed that the lover longs for the good to be his own forever, it follows that we are bound to long for immortality as well as for the good-which is to say that Love is a longing for immortality" (Plato, 559, [ Symposium 206e-207a]). What follows is, if not classical, at any rate classic:

The candidate for this initiation cannot, if his efforts are to be rewarded, begin too early to devote himself to the beauties of the body. First of all, if his preceptor instructs him as he should, he will fall in love with the beauty of one individual body, so that his passion may give life to noble discourse. Next he must consider how nearly related the beauty of any one body is to the beauty of any other, and he will see that if he is to devote himself to loveliness of form it will be absurd to deny that the beauty of each and every body is the same. Having reached this point, he must set himself to be the lover of every lovely body, and bring his passion for the one into due proportion by deeming it of little or no importance.

Next he must grasp that the beauties of the body are as nothing to the beauties of the soul, so that wherever he meets with spiritual loveliness, even in the husk of an unlovely body, he will find it beautiful enough to fall in love with and cherish-and beautiful enough to quicken in his heart a longing for such discourse as tends toward the building of a noble nature. And from this he will be led to contemplate the beauty of laws and institutions. And when he discovers how every kind of beauty is akin to every other he will conclude that the beauty of the body is not, after all, of so great moment. ...

And so, when his prescribed devotion to boyish beauties has carried our candidate so far that the universal beauty dawns upon his inward sight, he is almost within reach of the final revelation. ... Starting from individual beauties, the quest for universal beauty must find him mounting the heavenly ladder, stepping from rung to rung-that is, from one to two, and from two to every lovely body, and from bodily beauty to the beauty of institutions, from institutions to learning, and from learning in general to the special lore that pertains to nothing but the beautiful itself-until at last he comes to know what beauty is.

And if, my dear Socrates, Diotima went on, man's life is ever worth living, it is when he has attained this vision of the very soul of beauty. (Plato, 561-63 [ Symposium 210a-211d])

Beauty here is conceived-perhaps explicitly in contrast to the classical aesthetics of integral parts and coherent whole-as perfect unity, or indeed as the principle of unity itself.

Plotinus, as we have already seen, comes close to equating beauty with formedness per se: it is the source of unity among disparate things, and it is itself perfect unity. Plotinus specifically attacks what we have called the classical conception of beauty:

Almost everyone declares that the symmetry of parts towards each other and towards a whole, with, besides, a certain charm of colour, constitutes the beauty recognized by the eye, that in visible things, as indeed in all else, universally, the beautiful thing is essentially symmetrical, patterned.

But think what this means.

Only a compound can be beautiful, never anything devoid of parts; and only a whole; the several parts will have beauty, not in themselves, but only as working together to give a comely total. Yet beauty in an aggregate demands beauty in details; it cannot be constructed out of ugliness; its law must run throughout.

All the loveliness of colour and even the light of the sun, being devoid of parts and so not beautiful by symmetry, must be ruled out of the realm of beauty. And how comes gold to be a beautiful thing? And lightning by night, and the stars, why are these so fair?

In sounds also the simple must be proscribed, though often in a whole noble composition each several tone is delicious in itself. (Plotinus, 21 [ Ennead I,6])

Plotinus declares that fire is the most beautiful physical thing, "making ever upwards, the subtlest and sprightliest of all bodies, as very near to the unembodied. ... Hence the splendour of its light, the splendour that belongs to the Idea" (Plotinus, 22 [ Ennead I,3]). For Plotinus as for Plato, all multiplicity must be immolated finally into unity, and all roads of inquiry and experience lead toward the Good/Beautiful/True/Divine.

This gave rise to a basically mystical vision of the beauty of God that, as Umberto Eco has argued, persisted alongside an anti-aesthetic asceticism throughout the Middle Ages: a delight in profusion that finally merges into a single spiritual unity. In the sixth century, Pseudo-Dionysius the Areopagite characterized the whole of creation as yearning toward God; the universe is called into being by love of God as beauty (Pseudo-Dionysius, 4.7; see Kirwan 1999, 29). Sensual/aesthetic pleasures could be considered the expressions of the immense, beautiful profusion of God and our ravishment thereby. Eco quotes Suger, Abbot of St Denis in the twelfth century, describing a richly-appointed church:

Thus, when-out of my delight in the beauty of the house of God-the loveliness of the many-colored gems has called me away from external cares, and worthy meditation has induced me to reflect, transferring that which is material to that which is immaterial, on the diversity of the sacred virtues: then it seems to me that I see myself dwelling, as it were, in some strange region of the universe which neither exists entirely in the slime of the earth nor entirely in the purity of Heaven; and that, by the grace of God, I can be transported from this inferior to that higher world in an anagogical manner. (Eco 1959, 14)

This conception has had many expressions in the modern era, including in such figures as Shaftesbury, Schiller, and Hegel, according to whom the aesthetic or the experience of art and beauty is a primary bridge (or to use the Platonic image, stairway or ladder) between the material and the spiritual. For Shaftesbury, there are three levels of beauty: what God makes (nature); what human beings make from nature or what is transformed by human intelligence (art, for example); and finally, the intelligence that makes even these artists (that is, God). Shaftesbury's character Theocles describes "the third order of beauty,"

which forms not only such as we call mere forms but even the forms which form. For we ourselves are notable architects in matter, and can show lifeless bodies brought into form, and fashioned by our own hands, but that which fashions even minds themselves, contains in itself all the beauties fashioned by those minds, and is consequently the principle, source, and fountain of all beauty. ... Whatever appears in our second order of forms, or whatever is derived or produced from thence, all this is eminently, principally, and originally in this last order of supreme and sovereign beauty. ... Thus architecture, music, and all which is of human invention, resolves itself into this last order. (Shaftesbury 1738, 228-29)

Schiller's expression of a similar series of thoughts was fundamentally influential on the conceptions of beauty developed within German Idealism:

The pre-rational concept of Beauty, if such a thing be adduced, can be drawn from no actual case-rather does itself correct and guide our judgement concerning every actual case; it must therefore be sought along the path of abstraction, and it can be inferred simply from the possibility of a nature that is both sensuous and rational; in a word, Beauty must be exhibited as a necessary condition of humanity. Beauty ... makes of man a whole, complete in himself. (1795, 59-60, 86)

For Schiller, beauty or play or art (he uses the words, rather cavalierly, almost interchangeably) performs the process of integrating or rendering compatible the natural and the spiritual, or the sensuous and the rational: only in such a state of integration are we-who exist simultaneously on both these levels-free. This is quite similar to Plato's 'ladder': beauty as a way to ascend to the abstract or spiritual. But Schiller-though this is at times unclear-is more concerned with integrating the realms of nature and spirit than with transcending the level of physical reality entirely, a la Plato. It is beauty and art that performs this integration.

In this and in other ways-including in the tripartite dialectical structure of his account-Schiller strikingly anticipates Hegel, who writes as follows.

The philosophical Concept of the beautiful, to indicate its true nature at least in a preliminary way, must contain, reconciled within itself, both the extremes which have been mentioned [the ideal and the empirical] because it unites metaphysical universality with real particularity. (Hegel 1835, 22)

Beauty, we might say, or artistic beauty at any rate, is a route from the sensuous and particular to the Absolute and to freedom, from finitude to the infinite, formulations that-while they are influenced by Schiller-strikingly recall Shaftesbury, Plotinus, and Plato.

Hegel, who associates beauty and art with mind and spirit, holds with Shaftesbury that the beauty of art is higher than the beauty of nature, on the grounds that, as Hegel puts it, "the beauty of art is born of the spirit and born again " (Hegel 1835, 2). That is, the natural world is born of God, but the beauty of art transforms that material again by the spirit of the artist. This idea reaches is apogee in Benedetto Croce, who very nearly denies that nature can ever be beautiful, or at any rate asserts that the beauty of nature is a reflection of the beauty of art. "The real meaning of 'natural beauty' is that certain persons, things, places are, by the effect which they exert upon one, comparable with poetry, painting, sculpture, and the other arts" (Croce 1928, 230).

2.3 Love and Longing

Edmund Burke, expressing an ancient tradition, writes that, "by beauty I mean, that quality or those qualities in bodies, by which they cause love, or some passion similar to it" (Burke 1757, 83). As we have seen, in almost all treatments of beauty, even the most apparently object or objectively-oriented, there is a moment in which the subjective qualities of the experience of beauty are emphasized: rhapsodically, perhaps, or in terms of pleasure or ataraxia, as in Schopenhauer. For example, we have already seen Plotinus, for whom beauty is certainly not subjective, describe the experience of beauty ecstatically. In the idealist tradition, the human soul, as it were, recognizes in beauty its true origin and destiny. Among the Greeks, the connection of beauty with love is proverbial from early myth, and Aphrodite the goddess of love won the Judgment of Paris by promising Paris the most beautiful woman in the world.

There is an historical connection between idealist accounts of beauty and those that connect it to love and longing, though there would seem to be no entailment either way. We have Sappho's famous fragment 16: "Some say thronging cavalry, some say foot soldiers, others call a fleet the most beautiful sights the dark world offers, but I say it's whatever you love best" (Sappho, 16). (Indeed, at Phaedrus 236c, Socrates appears to defer to "the fair Sappho" as having had greater insight than himself on love [Plato, 483].)

Plato's discussions of beauty in the Symposium and the Phaedrus occur in the context of the theme of erotic love. In the former, love is portrayed as the 'child' of poverty and plenty. "Nor is he delicate and lovely as most of us believe, but harsh and arid, barefoot and homeless" (Plato, 556 [Symposium 203b-d]). Love is portrayed as a lack or absence that seeks its own fulfillment in beauty: a picture of mortality as an infinite longing. Love is always in a state of lack and hence of desire: the desire to possess the beautiful. Then if this state of infinite longing could be trained on the truth, we would have a path to wisdom. The basic idea has been recovered many times, for example by the Romantics. It fueled the cult of idealized or courtly love through the Middle Ages, in which the beloved became a symbol of the infinite.

Recent work on the theory of beauty has revived this idea, and turning away from pleasure has turned toward love or longing (which are not necessarily entirely pleasurable experiences) as the experiential correlate of beauty. Both Sartwell and Nehamas use Sappho's fragment 16 as an epigraph. Sartwell defines beauty as "the object of longing" and characterizes longing as intense and unfulfilled desire. He calls it a fundamental condition of a finite being in time, where we are always in the process of losing whatever we have, and are thus irremediably in a state of longing. And Nehamas writes that "I think of beauty as the emblem of what we lack, the mark of an art that speaks to our desire. ... Beautiful things don't stand aloof, but direct our attention and our desire to everything else we must learn or acquire in order to understand and possess, and they quicken the sense of life, giving it new shape and direction" (Nehamas 2007, 77).

2.4 Hedonist Conceptions

Thinkers of the 18 th century-many of them oriented toward empiricism-accounted for beauty in terms of pleasure. The Italian historian Ludovico Antonio Muratori, for example, in quite a typical formulation, says that "By beautiful we generally understand whatever, when seen, heard, or understood, delights, pleases, and ravishes us by causing within us agreeable sensations" (see Carritt 1931, 60). In Hutcheson it is not clear whether we ought to conceive beauty primarily in terms of classical formal elements or in terms of the viewer's pleasurable response. He begins the Inquiry Into the Original of Our Ideas of Beauty and Virtue with a discussion of pleasure. And he appears to assert that objects which instantiate his 'compound ratio of uniformity and variety' are peculiarly or necessarily capable of producing pleasure:

The only Pleasure of sense, which our Philosophers seem to consider, is that which accompanys the simple Ideas of Sensation; But there are vastly greater Pleasures in those complex Ideas of objects, which obtain the Names of Beautiful, Regular, Harmonious. Thus every one acknowledges he is more delighted with a fine Face, a just Picture, than with the View of any one Colour, were it as strong and lively as possible; and more pleased with a Prospect of the Sun arising among settled Clouds, and colouring their Edges, with a starry Hemisphere, a fine Landskip, a regular Building, than with a clear blue Sky, a smooth Sea, or a large open Plain, not diversify'd by Woods, Hills, Waters, Buildings: And yet even these latter Appearances are not quite simple. So in Musick, the Pleasure of fine Composition is incomparably greater than that of any one Note, how sweet, full, or swelling soever. (Hutcheson 1725, 22)

When Hutcheson then goes on to describe 'original or absolute beauty,' he does it, as we have seen, in terms of the qualities of the beautiful thing (a "compound ratio" of uniformity and variety), and yet throughout, he insists that beauty is centered in the human experience of pleasure. But of course the idea of pleasure could come apart from Hutcheson's particular aesthetic preferences, which are poised precisely opposite Plotinus's, for example. That we find pleasure in a symmetrical rather than an asymmetrical building (if we do) is contingent. But that beauty is connected to pleasure appears, according to Hutcheson, to be necessary, and the pleasure which is the locus of beauty itself has ideas rather than things as its objects.

Hume writes in a similar vein in the Treatise of Human Nature:

Beauty is such an order and construction of parts as, either by the primary constitution of our nature, by custom, or by caprice, is fitted to give a pleasure and satisfaction to the soul. ... Pleasure and pain, therefore, are not only necessary attendants of beauty and deformity, but constitute their very essence. (Hume 1740, 299)

Though this appears ambiguous as between locating the beauty in the pleasure or in the impression or idea that causes it, Hume is soon talking about the 'sentiment of beauty,' where sentiment is, roughly, a pleasurable or painful response to impressions or ideas, though the experience of beauty is a matter of cultivated or delicate pleasures. Indeed, by the time of Kant's Third Critique and after that for perhaps two centuries, the direct connection of beauty to pleasure is taken as a commonplace, to the point where thinkers are frequently identifying beauty as a certain sort of pleasure. Santayana, for example, as we have seen, while still gesturing in the direction of the object or experience that causes pleasure, emphatically identifies beauty as a certain sort of pleasure.

One result of this approach to beauty-or perhaps an extreme expression of this orientation-is the assertion of the positivists that words such as 'beauty' are meaningless or without cognitive content, or are mere expressions of subjective approval. Hume and Kant were no sooner declaring beauty to be a matter of sentiment or pleasure and therefore to be subjective than they were trying to ameliorate the sting, largely by emphasizing critical consensus. But once this fundamental admission is made, any consensus seems contingent. Another way to formulate this is that it appears to certain thinkers after Hume and Kant that there can be no reasons to prefer the consensus to a counter-consensus assessment. A.J. Ayer writes:

Such aesthetic words as 'beautiful' and 'hideous' are employed ... not to make statements of fact, but simply to express certain feelings and evoke a certain response. It follows...that there is no sense attributing objective validity to aesthetic judgments, and no possibility of arguing about questions of value in aesthetics. (Ayer 1952, 113)

All meaningful claims either concern the meaning of terms or are empirical, in which case they are meaningful because observations could confirm or disconfirm them. 'That song is beautiful' has neither status, and hence has no empirical or conceptual content. It merely expresses a positive attitude of a particular viewer; it is an expression of pleasure, like a satisfied sigh. The question of beauty is not a genuine question, and we can safely leave it behind or alone. Most twentieth-century philosophers did just that.

2.5 Use and Uselessness

Philosophers in the Kantian tradition identify the experience of beauty with disinterested pleasure, psychical distance, and the like, and contrast the aesthetic with the practical. " Taste is the faculty of judging an object or mode of representing it by an entirely disinterested satisfaction or dissatisfaction. The object of such satisfaction is called beautiful " (Kant 1790, 45). Edward Bullough distinguishes the beautiful from the merely agreeable on the grounds that the former requires a distance from practical concerns: "Distance is produced in the first instance by putting the phenomenon, so to speak, out of gear with our practical, actual self; by allowing it to stand outside the context of our personal needs and ends" (Bullough 1912, 244).

On the other hand, many philosophers have gone in the opposite direction and have identified beauty with suitedness to use. 'Beauty' is perhaps one of the few terms that could plausibly sustain such entirely opposed interpretations.

According to Diogenes Laertius, the ancient hedonist Aristippus of Cyrene took a rather direct approach.

Is not then, also, a beautiful woman useful in proportion as she is beautiful; and a boy and a youth useful in proportion to their beauty? Well then, a handsome boy and a handsome youth must be useful exactly in proportion as they are handsome. Now the use of beauty is, to be embraced. If then a man embraces a woman just as it is useful that he should, he does not do wrong; nor, again, will he be doing wrong in employing beauty for the purposes for which it is useful. (Diogenes Laertius, 94)

In some ways, Aristippus is portrayed parodically: as the very worst of the sophists, though supposedly a follower of Socrates. And yet the idea of beauty as suitedness to use finds expression in a number of thinkers. Xenophon's Memorabilia puts the view in the mouth of Socrates, with Aristippus as interlocutor:

Socrates: In short everything which we use is considered both good and beautiful from the same point of view, namely its use.

Aristippus: Why then, is a dung-basket a beautiful thing?

Socrates: Of course it is, and a golden shield is ugly, if the one be beautifully fitted to its purpose and the other ill. (Xenophon, Book III, viii)

Berkeley expresses a similar view in his dialogue Alciphron, though he begins with the hedonist conception: "Every one knows that beauty is what pleases" (Berkeley 1732, 174; see Carritt 1931, 75). But it pleases for reasons of usefulness. Thus, as Xenophon suggests, on this view, things are beautiful only in relation to the uses for which they are intended or to which they are properly applied. The proper proportions of an object depend on what kind of object it is and, again, a beautiful car might make an ugly tractor. "The parts, therefore, in true proportions, must be so related, and adjusted to one another, as they may best conspire to the use and operation of the whole" (Berkeley 1732, 174-75; see Carritt 1931, 76). One result of this is that, though beauty remains tied to pleasure, it is not an immediate sensible experience. It essentially requires intellection and practical activity: one has to know the use of a thing and assess its suitedness to that use.

This treatment of beauty is often used, for example, to criticize the distinction between fine art and craft, and it avoids sheer philistinism by enriching the concept of 'use,' so that it might encompass not only performing a practical task, but performing it especially well or with an especial satisfaction. Ananda Coomaraswamy, the Ceylonese-British scholar of Indian and European medieval arts, adds that a beautiful work of art or craft expresses as well as serves its purpose.

A cathedral is not as such more beautiful than an airplane, ... a hymn than a mathematical equation. ... A well-made sword is not less beautiful than a well-made scalpel, though one is used to slay, the other to heal. Works of art are only good or bad, beautiful or ugly in themselves, to the extent that they are or are not well and truly made, that is, do or do not express, or do or do not serve their purpose. (Coomaraswamy 1977, 75)

Roger Scruton, in his book Beauty (2009) returns to a modified Kantianism with regard to both beauty and sublimity, enriched by many and varied examples. "We call something beautiful," writes Scruton, "when we gain pleasure from contemplating it as an individual object, for its own sake, and in its presented form" (Scruton 2009, 26). Despite the Kantian framework, Scruton, like Sartwell and Nehamas, throws the subjective/objective distinction into question. He compares experiencing a beautiful thing to a kiss. To kiss someone that one loves is not merely to place one body part on another, "but to touch the other person in his very self. Hence the kiss is compromising - it is a move from one self toward another, and a summoning of the other into the surface of his being" (Scruton 2009, 48). This, Scruton says, is a profound pleasure.

3. The Politics of Beauty

Kissing sounds nice, but some kisses are coerced, some pleasures obtained at a cost to other people. The political associations of beauty over the last few centuries have been remarkably various and remarkably problematic, particularly in connection with race and gender, but in other aspects as well. This perhaps helps account for the neglect of the issue in early-to-mid twentieth-century philosophy as well as its growth late in the century as an issue in social justice movements, and subsequently in social-justice oriented philosophy.

3.1 Aristocracy and Capital

The French revolutionaries of 1789 associated beauty with the French aristocracy and with the Rococo style of the French royal family, as in the paintings of Fragonard: hedonist expressions of wealth and decadence, every inch filled with decorative motifs. Beauty itself became subject to a moral and political critique, or even to direct destruction, with political motivations (see Levey 1985). And by the early 20th century, beauty was particularly associated with capitalism (ironically enough, considering the ugliness of the poverty and environmental destruction it often induced). At times even great art appeared to be dedicated mainly to furnishing the homes of rich people, with the effect of concealing the suffering they were inflicting. In response, many anti-capitalists, including many Marxists, appeared to repudiate beauty entirely. And in the aesthetic politics of Nazism, reflected for example in the films of Leni Riefenstahl, the association of beauty and right wing politics was sealed to devastating effect (see Spotts 2003).

Early on in his authorship, Karl Marx could hint that the experience of beauty distinguishes human beings from all other animals. An animal "produces only under the dominion of immediate physical need, whilst man produces even when he is free from physical need and only truly produces in freedom therefrom. Man therefore also forms objects in accordance with the laws of beauty" (Marx 1844, 76). But later Marx appeared to conceive beauty as "superstructure" or "ideology" disguising the material conditions of production. Perhaps, however, he also anticipated the emergence of new beauties, available to all both as makers and appreciators, in socialism.

Capitalism, of course, uses beauty - at times with complete self-consciousness - to manipulate people into buying things. Many Marxists believed that the arts must be turned from providing fripperies to the privileged or advertising that helps make them wealthier to showing the dark realities of capitalism (as in the American Ashcan school, for example), and articulating an inspiring Communist future. Stalinist socialist realism consciously repudiates the aestheticized beauties of post-impressionist and abstract painting, for example. It has urgent social tasks to perform (see Bown and Lanfranconi 2012). But the critique tended at times to generalize to all sorts of beauty: as luxury, as seduction, as disguise and oppression. The artist Max Ernst (1891-1976), having survived the First World War, wrote this about the radical artists of the early century: "To us, Dada was above all a moral reaction. Our rage aimed at total subversion. A horrible futile war had robbed us of five years of our existence. We had experienced the collapse into ridicule and shame of everything represented to us as just, true, and beautiful. My works of that period were not meant to attract, but to make people scream" (quoted in Danto 2003, 49).

Theodor Adorno, in his book Aesthetic Theory, wrote that one symptom of oppression is that oppressed groups and cultures are regarded as uncouth, dirty, ragged; in short, that poverty is ugly. It is art's obligation, he wrote, to show this ugliness, imposed on people by an unjust system, clearly and without flinching, rather to distract people by beauty from the brutal realities of capitalism. "Art must take up the cause of what is proscribed as ugly, though no longer to integrate or mitigate it or reconcile it with its own existence," Adorno wrote. "Rather, in the ugly, art must denounce the world that creates and reproduces the ugly in its own image" (Adorno 1970, 48-9).

The political entanglements of beauty tend to throw into question various of the traditional theories. For example, the purity and transcendence associated with the essence of beauty in the realm of the Forms seems irrelevant, as beauty shows its centrality to politics and commerce, to concrete dimensions of oppression. The austere formalism of the classical conception, for example, seems neither here nor there when the building process is brutally exploitative.

3.2 The Feminist Critique

As we have seen, the association of beauty with the erotic is proverbial from Sappho and is emphasized relentlessly by figures such as Burke and Nehamas. But the erotic is not a neutral or universal site, and we need to ask whose sexuality is in play in the history of beauty, with what effects. This history, particularly in the West and as many feminist theorists and historians have emphasized, is associated with the objectification and exploitation of women. Feminists beginning in the 19th century gave fundamental critiques of the use of beauty as a set of norms to control women's bodies or to constrain their self-presentation and even their self-image in profound and disabling ways (see Wollstonecraft 1792, Grimké 1837).

In patriarchal society, as Catherine MacKinnon puts it, the content of sexuality "is the gaze that constructs women as objects for male pleasure. I draw on pornography for its form and content," she continues, describing her treatment of the subject, "for the gaze that eroticizes the despised, the demeaned, the accessible, the there-to-be-used, the servile, the child-like, the passive, and the animal. That is the content of sexuality that defines gender female in this culture, and visual thingification is its method" (MacKinnon 1987, 53-4). Laura Mulvey, in "Visual Pleasure and Narrative Cinema," reaches one variety of radical critique and conclusion: "It is said that analyzing pleasure, or beauty, destroys it. That is the intention of this article" (Mulvey 1975, 60).

Mulvey's psychoanalytic treatment was focused on the scopophilia (a Freudian term denoting neurotic sexual pleasure configured around looking) of Hollywood films, in which men appeared as protagonists, and women as decorative or sexual objects for the pleasure of the male characters and male audience-members. She locates beauty "at the heart of our oppression." And she appears to have a hedonist conception of it: beauty engenders pleasure. But some pleasures, like some kisses, are sadistic or exploitative at the individual and at the societal level. Art historians such as Linda Nochlin (1988) and Griselda Pollock (1987) brought such insights to bear on the history of painting, for example, where the scopophilia is all too evident in famous nudes such as Titian's Venus of Urbino or Velazquez's Rokeby Venus, which a feminist slashed with knife in 1914 because "she didn't like the way men gawked at it".

Feminists such as Naomi Wolf in her book The Beauty Myth, generalized such insights into a critique of the ways women are represented throughout Western popular culture: in advertising, for example, or music videos. Such practices have the effect of constraining women to certain acceptable ways of presenting themselves publicly, which in turn greatly constrains how seriously they are taken, or how much of themselves they can express in public space. As have many other commentators, Wolf connects the representation of the "beautiful" female body, in Western high art but especially in popular culture, to eating disorders and many other self-destructive behaviors, and indicates that a real overturning of gender hierarchy will require deeply re-construing the concept of beauty.

The demand on women to create a beautiful self-presentation by male standards, Wolf argues, fundamentally compromises women's action and self-understanding, and makes fully human relationships between men and women difficult or impossible. In this Wolf follows, among others, the French thinker Luce Irigaray, who wrote that "Female beauty is always considered as finery ultimately designed to attract the other into the self. It is almost never perceived as a manifestation of, an appearance of, a phenomenon expressive of interiority - whether of love, of thought, of flesh. We look at ourselves in the mirror to please someone, rarely to interrogate the state of our body or our spirit, rarely for ourselves and in search of our becoming" (quoted in Robinson 2000, 230).

"Sex is held hostage by beauty," Wolf remarks, "and its ransom terms are engraved in girls' minds early and deeply with instruments more beautiful that those which advertisers or pornographers know how to use: literature, poetry, painting, and film" (Wolf 1991f, 157).

3.3 Colonialism and Race

Early in the 20th century, black nationalist leader Marcus Garvey (1887-1940) described European or white standards of beauty as a deep dimension of oppression, quite similarly to the way Naomi Wolf describes beauty standards for women. These standards are relentlessly reinforced in authoritative images, but they are incompatible with black skin, black bodies, and also traditional African ways of understanding human beauty. White standards of beauty, Garvey argued, devalue black bodies. The truly oppressive aspects of such norms can be seen in the way they induce self-alienation, as Wolf argues with regard to sexualized images of women. "Some of us in America, the West Indies, and Africa believe that the nearer we approach the white man in color, the greater our social standing and privilege," he wrote (Garvey 1925 [1986], 56). He condemns skin bleaching and hair straightening as ways that black people are taught to devalue themselves by white standards of beauty. And he connects such standards to 'colorism' or prejudice in the African-American community toward darker-skinned black people.

Such observations suggest some of the strengths of cultural relativism as opposed to subjectivism or universalism: standards of beauty appear in this picture not to be idiosyncratic to individuals, nor to be universal among all people, but to be tied to group identities and to oppression and resistance.

In his autobiography, Malcolm X (1925-1965), whose parents were activists in the Garvey movement, describes 'conking' or straightening his hair with lye products as a young man. "This was my first really big step toward self-degradation," he writes, "when I endured all of that pain, literally burning my flesh to have it look like a white man's hair. I had joined that multitude of Negro men and women in America who are brainwashed into believing that black people are 'inferior' - and white people 'superior' - that they will even violate and mutilate their God-created bodies to try to look 'pretty' by white standards" (X 1964, 56-7). For both Marcus Garvey and Malcolm X, a key moment in the transformation of racial oppression would be the affirmation of standards of black beauty that are not parasitic on white standards, and hence not directly involved in racial oppression. This was systematically developed after Malcolm's death in the "natural" hairstyles and African fabrics in the Black Power movement. Certainly, people have many motivations for straightening or coloring their hair, for example. But the critical examination of the racial content of beauty norms was a key moment in black liberation movements, many of which, around 1970, coalesced around the slogan Black is beautiful. These are critiques of specific standards of beauty; they are also tributes to beauty's power.

Imposing standards of beauty on non-Western cultures, and, in particular, misappropriating standards of beauty and beautiful objects from them, formed one of the most complex strategies of colonialism. Edward Said famously termed this dynamic "orientalism." Novelists such as Nerval and Kipling and painters such as Delacroix and Picasso, he argued, used motifs drawn from Asian and African cultures, treating them as "exotic" insertions into Western arts. Such writers and artists might even have understood themselves to be celebrating the cultures they depicted in pictures of Arabian warriors or African masks. But they used this imagery precisely in relation to Western art history. They distorted what they appropriated.

"Being a White Man, in short," writes Said, "was a very concrete manner of being-in-the-world, a way of taking hold of reality, language, and thought. It made a specific style possible" (Said 1978, 227). This style might be encapsulated in the outfits of colonial governors, and their mansions. But it was also typified by an appropriative "appreciation" of "savage" arts and "exotic" beauties, which were of course not savage or exotic in their own context. Even in cases where the beauty of such objects was celebrated, the appreciation was mixed with condescension and misapprehension, and also associated with stripping colonial possessions of their most beautiful objects (as Europeans understood beauty)-shipping them back to the British Museum, for example. Now some beautiful objects, looted in colonialism, are being returned to their points of origin (see Matthes 2017), but many others remain in dispute.

3.4 Beauty and Resistance

However, if beauty has been an element in various forms of oppression, it has also been an element in various forms of resistance, as the slogan "Black is beautiful" suggests. The most compelling responses to oppressive standards and uses of beauty have given rise to what might be termed counter-beauties. When fighting discrimination against people with disabilities, for example, one may decry the oppressive norms that regard disabled bodies as ugly and leave it at that. Or one might try to discover what new standards of beauty and subversive pleasures might arise in the attempt to regard disabled bodies as beautiful (Siebers 2005). For that matter, one might uncover the ways that non-normative bodies and subversive pleasures actually do fulfill various traditional criteria of beauty. Indeed, for some decades there has been a disability arts movement, often associated with artists such as Christine Sun Kim and Riva Lehrer, which tries to do just that (see Siebers 2005).

The exploration of beauty, in some ways flipping it over into an instrument of feminist resistance, or showing directly how women's beauty could be experienced outside of patriarchy, has been a theme of much art by women of the 20th and 21st centuries. Georgia O'Keeffe's flowers and Judy Chicago's "Dinner Party" place settings undertake to absorb and reverse the objectifying gaze. The exploration of the meaning of the female body in the work of performance artists such as Hannah Wilke, Karen Finley, and Orlan, tries both to explore the objectification of the female body and to affirm women's experience in its concrete realities from the inside: to make of it emphatically a subject rather than an object (see Striff 1997).

"Beauty seems in need of rehabilitation today as an impulse that can be as liberating as it has been deemed enslaving," wrote philosopher Peg Zeglin Brand in 2000. "Confident young women today pack their closets with mini-skirts and sensible suits. Young female artists toy with feminine stereotypes in ways that make their feminist elders uncomfortable. They recognize that ... beauty can be a double-edged sword - as capable of destabilizing rigid conventions and restrictive behavioral models as it is of reinforcing them" (Brand 2000, xv). Indeed, vernacular norms of beauty as expressed in media and advertising have shifted in virtue of the feminist and anti-racist attacks on dominant body norms, as the concept's long journey continues.

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Perhaps the most familiar basic issue in the theory of beauty is whether beauty is subjective-located 'in the eye of the beholder'-or rather an objective feature of beautiful things. A pure version of either of these positions seems implausible, for reasons we will examine, and many attempts have been made to split the difference or incorporate insights of both subjectivist and objectivist accounts.

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Taste is the most common trope when talking about the intellectual judgment of an object's aesthetic merit. This popularity rose to an unprecedented degree in the eighteenth century, which is the main focus of this article. Taste became a major concept in aesthetics. This prominence was so pronounced that it might seem that taste as an aesthetic idea developed from nothing during this time. However, the roots for theories of taste stretch back, as many things do, to Plato and Aristotle. In talking about the human soul, for example, Aristotle emphasized the role the senses play in obtaining knowledge and making judgments. As a condition for sentient beings, touch is the main component of taste, since the tongue must touch what it tastes. So, the idea that taste can be used to make judgments was present early on, as the embryonic idea for the more robust theories of taste.

Though it is no secret that theories of taste thrived in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, it might still be surprising because of the new intellectual focus. Science and the higher faculties of reason received a greater emphasis, while Alexander Baumgarten began using the word aesthetics to refer to the lower faculties of judgment. Why these lower faculties came to be so popular is unusual in the wake of the scientific developments and ideas of the day. But these philosophers realized there was something in common experience when confronted with beauty that they didn't understand. Perhaps, people began to believe that humans really are the measure, since they were making these new intellectual advancements. And the ability to judge beauty would become more important, as they believed their judgments were more accurate or substantial. However, they still did not agree about the specifics of the judgments. For David Hume, taste is a subjective feeling with a standard found within the beholders. For Alexander Gerard, taste is an act of the imagination. For Immanuel Kant, taste is subjective, but beautiful objects present themselves as having universal appeal. And this is just a smattering of the different ideas.

Despite this strong beginning, the importance of taste dropped out of most theories of aesthetics by the twentieth century. Yet on a popular level, people continue to refer to good and bad taste in what are meaningful exchanges. Many subsequent philosophers have tried to develop a more involved theory of gustatory taste as a branch of aesthetics. Though this might have its own value, taste in the more traditional sense has not completely faded away, even though people do not any longer devote as much time to theories of taste.

Table of Contents

Early Foundations for Taste: Ancient to Medieval Philosophers

Why Taste Became the Metaphor for Aesthetic Judgment

Eighteenth Century Philosophers: The Century of Taste

Nineteenth and Twentieth Century Philosophers: The Step Away from Taste

Contemporary Philosophy and Beyond

Pierre Bourdieu

Gustatory Taste

Some Developments in Analytic Philosophy

1. Early Foundations for Taste: Ancient to Medieval Philosophers

Theories of taste did not explicitly come to the forefront until the eighteenth century; however, most of the foundational ideas were in place many years prior. The focus was more on beauty and truth rather than on what the beholder felt about a given work. These ideas came to influence the theories of later thinkers as they revitalized, revised, and responded to the writings of these early Greek and medieval philosophers. Here, just a cursory glance of these preliminary thoughts will be reviewed.

a. Plato and Aristotle

Plato, Aristotle, and the other ancient Greeks did not have any specific notion of taste as a means of aesthetic judgment. However, many of their ideas inspired the later developments of theories of taste. Plato's metaphysical beliefs, especially his view of the perfect forms, had an acute influence on the later Neoplatonists, even on those who did not specifically believe in a realm of the Forms. The traditional understanding of Plato holds that there is a heavenly realm where the perfect Forms of reality exist. Whether or not Plato believed in a literal realm of Forms is open for discussion, but it seems clear that he believed in perfect versions of everything we experience on earth. These Forms are like the templates of reality, and reality is therefore less perfect than these Forms. For instance, the Form of Beauty is the standard by which all other beautiful things are measured. Necessarily, all of the particular things are less beautiful than this perfect Beauty. To reach this higher Beauty, one must rise up to it through a dialectical method, as Socrates learned from Diotima in Symposium. Almost like ascending stairs, one uses the lower beauties of the world to climb up to the higher realms. To explain, we start with physical beauty, move to intellectual beauty, and then arrive at spiritual (or perfect) beauty. More could be said about Plato's overall view of aesthetics and beauty, but it is important to note here simply that the apprehension of the beautiful is connected with knowledge. As one obtains knowledge, one continues to learn more of beauty. So, knowledge is the key component to developing a better appreciation of beauty and, for Plato, arriving at Beauty itself.

Aristotle, like Plato, did not have a concept of taste per se. The quest was to uncover the principles of beauty. Rather than believing real beauty existed in another world, Aristotle wrote that beauty was a property of objects; it was related to their size and proportion. Though Aristotle did not develop a system of aesthetics as such, he is the first on record to have developed an extended treatment about one of the arts, namely poetry. Since this is the main art that Plato criticized in the Republic, one might wonder whether this was Aristotle's attempt to further distinguish his own system of philosophy.

While Plato's view is that Beauty has the same nature but with different degrees in different objects, Aristotle seems to hold the idea that beauty's nature varies with the different objects (or types of art) in which it is found. Therefore, the beauty of an object might relate to that object's purpose, though he never directly says so. More important to Aristotle's view are the concepts of form and unity. As form and unity are necessary for knowledge in the strict sense, so they also provide a kind of knowledge in art as an object imitates something else. While Plato believed that art diminishes the knowledge of something to an almost unrecognizable degree, Aristotle holds that the imitation helps the idea become simpler and therefore more easily understood. The imitation can actually be a useful, sometimes necessary, step in obtaining knowledge. And the imitation, though not always complete, is correct. Rather than rising to some higher forms of beauty beyond this physical world, Aristotle seems to have a more experiential approach to discovering and judging beauty. Each kind of thing has its own form and therefore its own beauty. To develop what we might call aesthetic judgment, though Aristotle does not use that expression, one would have to observe enough samples of different objects of the same kind to discover the order and arrangement proper to those things. Both Aristotle and Plato have beauty located outside of human experience, so taste would have been the search for beauty in things.

b. Plotinus

Plotinus, the most recognized Neoplatonist, developed his metaphysical philosophy around three principles: The One, Intellect, and Soul. Following earlier philosophers' attempts to derive the more complex things from the simple, Plotinus posits the One as the simplest first principle of everything else, and everything is derived (or emanates) from this first principle. The One is even more foundational for reality than Plato's Forms, without which the Forms would have no unifying principle. The second principle, Intellect, is where the other Forms reside, so to speak. These Forms, like in Plato's view, are what give everything else their respective properties. The third principle, Soul, is the principle of desire for those things that are external to the individual. Plotinus, like Plato, posits degrees of beauty, with the lowest being physical beauty, leading up to the Beauty present in the Intellect.

Likely influenced by the ideas in Diotima's speech in Plato's Symposium, we begin our ascent from physical beauties until we climb up to the highest Beauty. Where he might differ from Plato is in the hierarchy of beautiful things. Presumably, Plato thought natural things were more beautiful than artifacts because they were closer to the Forms of those things. However, Plotinus claims that the manipulation of a natural object through art made it more beautiful. To demonstrate, Plotinus uses an example of two stones: one is naturally occurring and the other has been wrought by an artist into the image of a god. Which one is more beautiful? Plotinus thinks it is clear that the one that has been imbued with the soul of a human artist has achieved a higher degree of beauty. The soul of the spectator can enjoy this object more than the natural stone because he recognizes the work of a like soul. As one ascends toward Beauty, the goal is to rely less on the senses, though they are the necessary condition for beginning the ascent. It seems for Plotinus that taste is not necessarily developed or reasoned about. Rather, it is almost like a reaction in the soul, based on the knowledge that the soul possesses.

c. Augustine and Aquinas

Medieval philosophers were concerned with metaphysical properties like beauty more than any notion of individual preference or taste. This was partly because beauty, for most of the philosophers of this time, was an objective property. There wasn't any room for disagreement about whether something was actually beautiful, though they presumably debated about whether one's particular knowledge about the beauty of an object was correct. It was widely believed that the true, the good, and the beautiful were linked to each other. Talking about any one of these concepts involved overlapping discussions of the other two. For instance, theories of beauty consisted of some discussion about its relation to the true and good. For present purposes, the main two representatives of the early and later middle ages will be discussed: Augustine and Aquinas (See also the article on Medieval Theories of Aesthetics).

Continuing the basic ideas of Plato, Augustine thought perfect beauty existed in God rather than the impersonal realm of the Forms. In fact, God is the highest beauty, and everything participates in beauty because everything is created by God. In physical objects, Augustine believed two primary attributes made those things beautiful: equality and unity. Unity is found in everything that exists, but equality (proportion or symmetry) is not necessarily found in everything, especially those things made by people. Augustine provides an example that shows we at least aim for equality in our work: If you want to put two windows on the side of a house, you do not want one to be gigantic and the other tiny. You want them to be the same size, assuming the wall is an even rectangle. For Augustine, the judgment of beauty is founded upon a person's apprehension of the unity and equality of an object. And this involves reason, which isn't that different from previous thinkers who thought knowledge was a necessary aspect of grasping beauty. The standard of beauty is in God's mind, so the beholder must come to understand this standard through some divine illumination. Without God's help, a person might see vaguely the beauty of an object, but it is God alone who can help the beholder grasp the fullness of beauty. Though Augustine does not have a theory of taste, we might say that one's taste is perfected the closer one is aligned with God.

Unlike Augustine, Aquinas adheres more carefully to the overall philosophical views of Aristotle rather than Plato, though Plato's influence is not absent. Finding beauty present in physical objects, Aquinas famously asserts that beauty is that which pleases when seen. It might appear that Aquinas's definition asserts a subjective understanding of beauty; namely, whatever pleases the onlooker becomes beautiful. However, the word seen implies contemplation of the object. Once again, knowledge comes into the apprehension of the beautiful. Aquinas' view of beauty differs from the platonic view in that beauty is really present in the object, though similar to Augustine's view, beauty is still God, who is the ultimate cause of all beauty.

Recall that Augustine offered two main traits of beautiful things: equality and unity. Similarly, Aquinas presents us with three conditions of beauty: proportion, wholeness, and radiance. Proportion involves symmetry but is not limited to this one aspect. It involves whether there is an overall balance achieved in the object. Wholeness (or integrity) is the condition that involves the degree to which something attains its proper form. For example, a dancer sitting down is less beautiful-as a dancer-than when he or she is actually dancing. The last condition, radiance, is the most evasive. It might just be, for Aquinas, the most important condition because objects might have proportion and be whole yet still not be radiant. Generally speaking, it is that quality of an object that makes us want to perceive it again. It involves the way an object "shines" before the beholder. For Aquinas, perceiving the beauty in an object is not passive; it is an activity of the intellect. Like judging the truth of a proposition, a judgment of beauty begins with cognition. Then, the beholder makes a judgment based on these three conditions. Taste, if Aquinas had a theory, might be the ability to recognize these three universal conditions in their specific instantiations.

2. Why Taste Became the Metaphor for Aesthetic Judgment

We have mentioned briefly the basic ideas that created the foundation for theories of taste, but we still need an explanation as to why taste became the metaphor for aesthetic judgment. The sense of taste, in ancient times, was connected with the appetite, not with rational judgments. Seeing and hearing provide the most information and thus were considered the best senses for gaining knowledge. The other three senses simply help round out that knowledge. Therefore, it would have been natural to assume that seeing and hearing are also the best senses for pronouncing a judgment of beauty or sublimity. After all, these two senses were thought to be necessary for making intelligent judgments. But it was taste that became the main faculty for making aesthetic judgments, especially for the 18 th century philosophers. Of course, it was not literal tasting, but metaphorical, that was at work here. Because of this, some posited a sixth, internal sense that they referred to as taste. Still, one might wonder why taste suddenly emerged as the metaphor for making judgments about beauty. Though there is no exact reason why taste rose to this prominent role, there are a couple of ideas about it worth mentioning here.

In the Aristotelian tradition, taste is connected strongly with the sense of touch. Though he maintained five senses as we do today, Aristotle considered whether there might only be four. It is necessary for the tongue to touch food, for example, for the food to be tasted. In the middle ages, this became more significant as different tastes were believed to elicit healing and nutrition on the body. It was believed that different flavors held different properties for the body, and a mixture of flavors was necessary in order to maintain healthy balance. Flavor was not accidental in different foods. Thus, good taste, in the sense of diet, was necessary for one's physical well-being.

In the later middle ages, taste was occasionally related to the term honest by referring to objects as, for example, an honest painting. This description might seem unusual since honesty is often connected with truth. And we consider honesty describing only a being with a will to choose, because one has to decide to be honest in a given situation. An inanimate object cannot make such a choice. Calling an object honest, however, was a reflection on the viewer or, more specifically, ideal type of viewer. Basically, an honest object is one that an honorable person would consider to be beautiful. It would be an object that is well suited for its purpose. This idea is connected with the belief that the good and beautiful are related, so of course, the good person is better suited to apprehend the beauty of an object. Taste was recognized as the sense associated with the ability to discriminate, namely flavors. But taste also became the metaphor for discriminating or judging the beauty of an object.

3. Eighteenth Century Philosophers: The Century of Taste

Theories of taste sprung up in the eighteenth century, which is why George Dickie refers to it as "the century of taste," which is also the name of his book. Everyone had to contribute something to the discussion, and then it seemed to die down as quickly as it had arisen. Prior to this century, most of the discussion centered on theories about beauty, which was deemed objective, but now philosophers began to look more toward themselves to understand their reactions and preferences to such things in both art and nature. This shift began their theorizing about taste, which turned the discussion toward the subjective. And then, a century later, this discussion transformed into theories about the aesthetic attitude.

a. Joseph Addison

Joseph Addison (1672-1719) did not present a systematic treatment of aesthetics, but he did promise and deliver original ideas spread throughout his essays for the Spectator in 1712. Specifically, Addison set out to investigate the pleasures of the imagination. The first essay in this series of eleven is devoted to taste. He writes that most languages employ the metaphor of taste to indicate the faculty of the mind that distinguishes between faults and perfections in writing. This faculty of mental taste (which involves the perception of beauty), like that of sensitive (or physical) taste, has degrees of refinement. So Addison was trying to help those in the middle-class utilize their brief moments of leisure for these kinds of pleasures of imagination. The pleasures of cognition, which involve intellectual thought, might not be possible for some people who have lesser intelligence or lack access to education. But the pleasures of the imagination-eyesight furnishes the ideas here-are just as good and are more easily obtained. After all, every image, says Addison, enters our minds through sight.

Addison asserts that taste is a person's psychological response to literature. Though his remarks are mostly framed in the context of literature, Addison's basic ideas became the foundation for people's thoughts about other kinds of art and nature. Even though the faculty of taste is present in people at birth, it must still be cultivated to be brought to its fullest ability to judge. This should not be surprising, because the same is true for the sensitive taste. Putting something in one's mouth enables the sensation of taste to work quite automatically. But it can take years of experience and practice to develop a sensitive taste refined enough to detect the subtle differences between two glasses of whisky.

The pleasures of the imagination are found in two types. Following Locke, Addison maintains that no images enter one's mind without going through the sense of sight. The primary pleasures come directly from the visual objects, which are present to the observer. The secondary pleasures arrive from those objects that are remembered or fictitious, being only in the mind (at least at the present moment). A person, through imagination, can manipulate or alter the images that are in the mind. The aesthetic pleasure arises solely through the contemplation of these ideas or those images in the mind. These pleasures of the imagination are greater than sensual pleasure and are as great as the cognitive pleasures. They have at least one advantage over the cognitive pleasures-the pleasures of the imagination are much easier to obtain because one has to simply open one's eyes.

b. Anthony Cooper, Third Earl of Shaftesbury

Anthony Cooper (1671-1713), the Third Earl of Shaftesbury (usually just called Shaftesbury), started his thoughts on aesthetics from Neoplatonic metaphysics. Shaftesbury developed his belief that taste was inborn in human beings, an idea perhaps similar to recollection in Plato. For anyone reading Shaftesbury, it becomes clear early on that he is not interested in developing a "system" of aesthetics. His thoughts cycle through his narrative, especially in his work "The Moralists." Woven throughout these works are many important ideas that Shaftesbury does not always fully develop but were still highly influential to those writing after him.

Shaftesbury maintains that people grasp beauty and goodness in exactly the same way, which involves the moral sense. The beautiful is closely related to virtue in his thinking; hence, moral theory permeates most aspects of Shaftesbury's understanding of aesthetics. One's sensibility in the realm of morality is intertwined with one's apprehension of beauty. Not only does he borrow from Neoplatonism, but Shaftesbury also emphasizes experience, showing elements of empiricism in the development of his ideas. He holds that forms of the beautiful and good are embedded in people's minds, but each person has an internal (moral) sense to which he or she can appeal. These two attitudes provide tension among the characters-Theocles and Philocles-in his prose as they seek to sort out opinions concerning taste. It was likely this interplay of contrary ideas that led Shaftesbury to utilize the prose style where he told a story of a group of people having discussions about taste and beauty. This style invites the reader into the discussion, similar to Plato's use of dialogue.

The key aesthetic property is harmony, which is found in nature as created by God. Seeing God as the ultimate artist, Shaftesbury extends aesthetic appreciation to the natural world as the ultimate aesthetic object. An important part of Shaftesbury's belief is that the moral sense allows a person to comprehend an object's beauty immediately, without the need to use reason. Intuition is at work here more than sensation. Obviously, the object is initially perceived by the senses, but then it is immediately judged by the internal (or moral) sense.

Though it seems possible for variation among different people's internal senses, Shaftesbury did not think that aesthetic judgments were relative. He believed in a universal standard of judgment for beauty. Philocles claims that an inward eye immediately differentiates the fair and admirable from the deformed and foul. This ability must be natural, since it differentiates as soon as objects are perceived by the senses. If the ability to discriminate (through one's taste) between beauty and ugliness is immediate, then taste cannot have its ultimate grounding in the process of reason, which takes time. Experience affirms the immediacy of one's judgments concerning objects of perception. For example, being captivated by a sunset usually does not require more than a glance to draw the viewer in. Therefore Shaftesbury, through Theocles, maintains that taste cannot have its ultimate source in discursive reasoning.

Some things can block people or cloud their minds from being able to make sound judgments. Even though taste resides innately in human beings, passions and ignorance prevent one's internal sense from successfully comprehending beauty in sensible things. Shaftesbury acknowledges that one cannot escape these obstacles; however, one can learn to control them in order to avoid being tossed around by one's whimsical feelings. The internal sense connects goodness and beauty for Shaftesbury; therefore, one can allow beauty to affect oneself more fully by cultivating a virtuous or harmonious life. Someone deprived of virtue will be less able to perceive beauty than one who lives a virtuous life.

Theocles declares several times that beauty and good are the same thing, which the inward eye enables people to immediately perceive. Then, the beauty and goodness of these objects are compared to the innate concept of harmony. It seems that the closer they are to this notion of harmony, the more beauty they are judged to possess, remembering that this happens without reasoning about the object. The same would also apply to one's judgment about the actions of others, whether they are noble or evil. When one builds good foundations of "order, peace, and concord," then one is able to immediately connect with beauty. The reverse is also true: if one is unable to experience the beautiful, then it is indicative that one's life is disharmonious. Philocles raises an interesting objection to Theocles' schema. He wonders why there are so many different people believed to be virtuous, yet their actions are often conflicting. Theocles agrees that seemingly virtuous people differ in their opinions about heroes and whether gardens or paintings are better. These differences create tension when seeking which opinions should have authority. Shaftesbury is vague on this point: It seems he is trying to claim that happiness is the measure of a successful life. And virtue, which leads to success and happiness, is the prerequisite for developing taste to comprehend beauty. In the end, it seems that the individual is responsible for his or her own happiness and has to make decisions accordingly. If there are different, even contrary, examples of a virtuous life, then it seems difficult to know whether one is actually living the virtuous life and able to apprehend beauty to a fuller degree. But he still maintains that a developed sensibility allowing one's innate taste to have full play is the result of guiding oneself toward a moral life with happiness as the standard of measure.

c. Francis Hutcheson

Francis Hutcheson (1694-1746) started from a Lockean view of sensation, which is divided into simple and complex ideas and primary and secondary qualities. With that foundation and his belief in a moral sense, Hutcheson also posits an innate and internal sense that was necessary for perceiving beauty. One reason for this view is exemplified by the fact that some people's external senses are fully functioning, yet they find no enjoyment in the arts. If their five senses are working properly, then the hindrance must come from another sense. Moreover, there are things like mathematical or logical theorems that are deemed beautiful, but they are perceived by the mind and not the five senses. Finally, as further proof, Hutcheson notes that beauty is perceived immediately and does not require any knowledge; people make aesthetic judgments quite instantly. So, for Hutcheson the ability to grasp beauty must be another, internal "sense.

The internal sense-Hutcheson does not clearly define it-is a mental faculty that functions much like one of the five senses. However, it recognizes beauty in both sensuous and mental experiences, which makes it sufficiently distinct. Hutcheson holds a complementary place to Shaftesbury in the development of the idea of innate taste. Hutcheson also blends his aesthetic theories with his moral theories, and both contexts allow for innate elements in human beings. Like an external sense, this internal sense is natural and is not governed by one's will. Hutcheson points out that the will does not determine whether an object causes pain or pleasure. It is a natural instinct to pull one's hand away upon touching something hot. Experiencing some objects causes pleasure, while other objects inevitably cause pain. As an analogy, Hutcheson demonstrates that pleasure in artistic objects-architecture, painting, musical composition, and so on-is also innate and necessary. Though he finds the faculty of taste to be an internal sense, Hutcheson explains that the pleasure arises out of the harmony, order, and design of the object. But he does not think that simple ideas, like color, sound, or mode of extension, can provide the same pleasure.

Concerning taste, Hutcheson believed that beauty represents the idea, while the sense of beauty represents our ability to grasp this idea. The combination-one's ability to perceive beauty internally-is what he refers to as taste. When perceiving beauty, we should note that Hutcheson proposes a distinction between absolute (or original) beauty and comparative (or relative) beauty. Objects have absolute beauty when they are beautiful in themselves without a comparison with any other object. Comparative beauty, on the other hand, is grounded in the comparison between the object of the perception and the object that it imitates.

Beauty, for Hutcheson, is mostly comparative, which means it would not exist without relating to the mind of a perceiver. Objects play their part by exciting in people feelings of beauty when there is "uniformity amidst variety," which is the primary property of beauty. When the uniformity is multiplied, then the beauty increases. For example, an equilateral triangle has less beauty than a square, while a perfect hexagon has more beauty than both of them. On the other side, more uniformity enhances the beauty when variety is multiplied. For example, a square is more beautiful than a rhombus. This uniformity with variety triggers the internal (and innate) sense of taste in human beings, causing them to apprehend the beauty of the object. External things only contribute by relating to this internal sense, causing it to activate feelings of pleasure. This activation of pleasure notifies observers that they are experiencing something that is beautiful.

d. Moses Mendelssohn

As a committed rationalist, Moses Mendelssohn (1729-1786) did not want to rely on emotional responses for aesthetic experiences. He was dedicated to the principles of Leibnizian metaphysics. Mendelssohn's goal of understanding the world could only come from rational principles applied to reality. The rationalists advanced the notion that clear and distinct ideas are present when one understands the interconnectedness of things. Taste also falls under the rationalist scheme and is something acquired and developed rather than an internal sense that is natural. Since clear and distinct ideas are not easily realized, Leibniz suggests that most of our knowledge consists of clear and confused ideas. Clear ideas arise from an object that is distinguishable in a sense perception, but they can be confused (that is, not distinct) because their contents are not distinguishable. Clear and confused ideas usually result when one knows the whole and not the parts, that is, the interconnectedness of the parts is not known.

In "On Sentiments," Mendelssohn presents a series of letters, written by Theocles, that was a reaction to Shaftesbury who had a character with the same name. Mendelssohn believed that views like Shaftesbury's, though freethinking, lacked the rigor necessary for precision. Mendelssohn's Theocles admits that when someone does not have the requisite experience of beauty, it was likely from lack of preparation. Theocles claims that he prepares himself to experience beauty, and this preparation is necessary for the experience. It might be similar to a runner stretching before running a race. People ready themselves in many different contexts, so it should not seem odd to prepare for an aesthetic experience. Mendelssohn's Theocles explains that he actually prepares to experience something pleasurable by initially striving to perceive it distinctly. Making a transfer from parts to whole, the distinct ideas fade out into the background and become confused. Since it is necessary for the whole to be present to the senses at once, the universe can only be a beautiful object for the mind of God. Hence, the finitude of mankind prevents objects too massive or too miniscule from being perceived as beautiful.

Mendelssohn describes some criteria for explaining why an object is effective at presenting a perfection or an imperfection, which aids in apprehending beauty. He describes three proportions that act on our impulses: (1) the proportion to the magnitude of the good, (2) the proportion to the magnitude of our insight, and (3) the proportion to the time required to consider this good. The first proportion relates to perfection, implying that things which possess a higher degree of perfection are more pleasing to the mind. The second one relates to knowledge: the more distinct one's knowledge is of something, then the more impact that thing has on the individual. The last proportion requires more explanation. It relates to the speed of the perception. The less time it takes to perceive a perfection, then the more pleasant is the knowledge of that object. Something that can be perceived quickly might produce greater desire in the perceiver than something that is more perfect. By learning to see things clear and confused, that is, the whole but not the parts, one can learn to perceive more quickly. One learns to train the soul through habit and practice; the goal is to become so trained that an action no longer requires thought (or at least requires less thought). Practice and intuitive knowledge are the two main ways to increase the speed of one's thoughts. Practice involves constantly reviewing things, such as inferences in practical philosophy until it becomes ingrained in one's mind. Intuitive knowledge entails continually learning to apply the practiced inferences to concrete situations. In terms of aesthetic experience, one learns through reason things that are supremely beautiful by being often exposed to beauty. Eventually, one practices and applies taste through the instrument of reason until it becomes embedded, and it will eventually function without thought.

Mixed sentiments-those combining pleasure and displeasure-are another indicator of Mendelssohn's belief that taste is acquired. Sympathy is the primary example Mendelssohn employs to illustrate the notion of mixed sentiments. Sympathy expresses love for an object, while also being discontent at the object's or person's misfortune. He demonstrates this idea using examples from drama. When a tragedy is about to occur, the audience can appreciate the ability of the actors, directors, and writers to make them feel terror; however, the audience is not afraid for themselves but the characters who are about to suffer. The interesting thing about mixed sentiments is that they penetrate more deeply and vividly into one's mind than any type of pure pleasure. Like learning to recognize the three proportions, habit is also required to develop an understanding of the mixed sentiments. One must practice utilizing mixed sentiments to discover and experience beauty and sublimity.

Mixed sentiments lead Mendelssohn into thoughts on perceptions and one's reaction. An extremely large object that we could think about as a whole but could not comprehend in person causes a mixed sentiment of gratification and trembling if we continue to think about it. As examples, he suggests the depths of the ocean, a desert stretching out to the horizon, or the seemingly endless stream of stars in the sky. One feels euphoric, a pleasing nausea. Pure pleasure will eventually breed boredom induced from monotony, but mixed sentiments will overpower one's senses, making one want to perceive it again and again. Mixed sentiments and training the mind are two important facets of Mendelssohn's understanding for how people develop or acquire taste.

e. Johann Gottfried Herder

Johann GottfriedHerder (1744-1803) shared the notion of reasoned or developed taste with Mendelssohn. He deviated from Mendelssohn by grounding everything in nature, while Mendelssohn was a staunch advocate of Leibnizian metaphysics, grounding everything in reason. It might seem that a belief in the supremacy of nature would lead one to the view of innate taste, like the view held by Shaftesbury. However, Herder does not begin with innate ideas like those in the Platonist school; he places more emphasis on discovering and developing an ability to perceive beauty. Herder adds a step to Mendelssohn's view, rather than opting for innate taste. Mendelssohn basically believed that reason develops taste, while Herder believed that nature leads to reason, which then leads to taste. In commenting on the natural aspect of taste, Herder explicitly claims that truth and beauty are disclosed through the use of reasons. When one is induced by reasons, then one will naturally expect everyone to accept the same reasons as evidence of truth or beauty. He was well aware that not everyone would actually agree with the same type of reasoning concerning the beauty of a given object. He merely asserts that it is natural to expect (or want) others to be in agreement.

People tend to have differing views about what counts as beautiful or ugly, and it is important for Herder's view that this occurrence be explained. Dealing with people's differences of opinion is one of Herder's distinguishing characteristics. He was very interested in the way that diverse people develop and come to think and act in distinct ways from other people, and he points out the fact that taste changes throughout time and from place to place. He links this change, as well as others, with culture and upbringing. Everyone, according to Herder, possesses an aesthetic nature, which is one's capacity to apprehend beauty through the senses. This aesthetic nature is the starting point for each person, but it develops in different ways depending on one's culture, background, and experience. For example, if someone immerses oneself completely in the art of music, then one will be exceptionally trained to hear the melody of music. At the same time, this person might be ill-equipped to perceive visual beauty because one's eyes might not be as well trained as one's ears. Nature has equipped everyone with similar capacities to perceive beauty, but each person is responsible for developing these capacities. On the other hand, people are restricted by how much their society and environment have contributed to developing their tastes as a whole. Beauty is not always obvious in every culture, but Herder claims that it is always present, at least in a foundational way. Utilizing one's reason and overcoming one's background are necessary for developing good or refined taste.

f. Alexander Gerard and Archibald Alison

Much like Hutcheson, Alexander Gerard (1728-1795) and Archibald Alison (1757-1839) built their theories of taste upon a foundation of Locke's notion of ideas. They each developed from this foundation views of taste called associationism-a view that the mind (or imagination) relates ideas that are similar to each other or conjoined by custom or experience. Even though their theories differed in degree, there is enough overlap to list them together.

Gerard believed that taste was a kind of internal sense similar to the external senses. Like those five senses, experiences for this one were also simple and immediate. As soon as something comes into your field of vision, the sense of sight perceives it immediately. Likewise, as soon as beauty-or another aesthetic property-enters into your perception, you can immediately experience its beauty. Gerard divided up his study into seven principles of the internal sense (or powers of the imagination), not only a sense of beauty like Hutcheson. The seven principles are novelty, sublimity, beauty, imitation, harmony, oddity (humorousness), and virtue. This may seem like a curious list for contemporary theories of aesthetic taste, but Gerard's association theory makes sense of these principles.

Taste, for Gerard, is a kind of critical perception, which he calls relishing. It went beyond simply perceiving an object. Anyone who ingests food can taste it in the most primal sense of the term. But to discern differences and subtleties requires a whole other set of abilities. The pleasure is derived from the seven categories because they require moderate difficulty to formulate or comprehend this new idea. Basically, the new object is associated to previous ideas in the mind of the perceiver, and this is an act of the imagination. Rather than being a mere feeling, the imagination follows rules to make these associations. Strong passions conjure up these associations, in a sense, but then the mind continues the process of associating these feelings with the appropriate concepts.

People improve their taste when judgment and imagination are combined through the following factors: sensibility, refinement, correctness, and proportion (or comparative adjustment). All but the last refer to a single property among various objects. Sensibility is basically a person's range of feeling pleasure and pain, which, Gerard notes, differs from person to person. Refinement involves making comparisons, especially between lower and higher degrees of a particular quality. Correctness, for Gerard, means alleviating the confusion between what are merits and what are blemishes. Proportion, on the other hand, compares whole objects with each other, rather than mere properties. One's taste improves as one develops a refined ability to utilize these four factors to unite the seven principles when apprehending an object of beauty.

Alison provides an overly detailed association theory of taste, but here only the basic ideas of his view will be presented. To begin with, beauty is found in the mind of the perceiver; he does not consider it a property of the object. He maintains this opinion because, when describing an experience of beauty, one always resorts to talking about how it made him or her feel. Imagine someone claiming that a given object is extremely beautiful, and yet it is an object of indifference. That seems impossible, which is why Alison believed feeling is necessary for beauty. And this feeling of beauty arises through what he calls a train of taste. This is similar to someone having a train of thought, where one thought is associated with or leads to another thought and so on. A train of taste begins with a simple emotion-such as cheerfulness-that arises when perceiving an object. This simple emotion becomes the starting point for a train that associates the ideas of emotions. While this is the necessary starting point for an aesthetic experience, this train must also produce emotions.

Alison's association view claims that an affective quality of an object becomes associated with ideas of emotions as a train of taste. The constant conjunction between the material quality and the abstract or emotional quality become correlated through experience. To illustrate, thunder might produce fear in a child because the child associates the noise and lightning with the emotion of fear; on the other hand, a farmer might feel joy upon hearing thunder if this season has been particularly dry. Unlike these examples, differences in people's tastes result from an absence of the right associations. People, for different reasons, may fail to produce the requisite trains of taste that lead to the right emotion. This can be caused by different concerns interfering with one's ability to allow the trains of taste to develop. Worrying about paying next month's rent, for example, could hinder one's ability to follow the train of taste where it will naturally lead. Thus Alison, like many others, posits a notion of disinterestedness as a necessary condition-one must not be distracted by cares in order to allow one's taste to apprehend and appreciate beauty.

g. David Hume

Even though David Hume (1711-1776) wrote little on aesthetics, his condensed essay "Of the Standard of Taste" was highly regarded by those who came after him. One cannot successfully treat the subject of taste thoroughly without some reference to this essay. Hume is generally labeled an empiricist, but in terms of taste, we could classify him as an ideal observer theorist who allows for some individual and cultural preferences. Empiricism, however, seems an apt label when considering certain elements of his essay on taste, namely that its foundation is experience. Art as a social practice is contained, for Hume, under the general theory of human action that he presents elsewhere but does not develop explicitly for his aesthetic views.

Hume draws a distinction between sentiments and determinations. Sentiments are always right because they do not reference anything beyond themselves. However, determinations are not all correct because they make reference to something beyond themselves, something that could be verified or falsified. Beauty is not a quality of objects; therefore, judgments of beauty and taste are sentiments, not determinations. If beauty was a quality of objects, then we would have a standard of beauty contained within those beautiful objects. Despite this result, Hume still wants to allow for certain kinds of opinions that seem correct from experience. While there are some objects that might be close in beauty to each other, there are others that clearly seem to be more beautiful than other objects.

As a prime example, Hume claims quite famously that no one-with a right mind-would think that Ogilby and Milton have no difference in excellence. But this difference is not something in the object itself, for beauty is not a property of objects but is in the mind only. So the objects that affect the higher sentiments of the person are the ones that we deem more beautiful. These affects are the result of cultural convention and therefore are subject to change. But within a culture, there is a standard of taste that isn't explicit, like the law, but is based on experience (comprising practice and comparison), especially experience of the right kind of person. Hume appeals to a true judge that would be able to perfectly assess the beauty of an object because this person would possess "strong sense, united to delicate sentiment, improved by practice, perfected by comparison, and cleared of all prejudice." The combined opinion of these very rare individuals would compose the standard of taste. The standard of taste lives within these true judges. By recognizing the better judgments certain people have displayed, the standard of taste they represent becomes public.

It is important, however, not to confuse Hume's true judge with someone like a contemporary art critic. The judge is not applying a standard of taste to the different objects of perception. If so, then beauty would be found in the objects or in some other realm. To better understand what Hume means, we can explain it this way: Many people have experienced looking at something and not understanding what they are seeing. And then someone else comes along and shows them what to look for (or how to see it properly). All of a sudden, they are able to perceive the object properly. For another example, take seeing someone in the distance. You might think the person is your friend. But as the distance becomes smaller and the perception clearer, it is now obvious that the person is a stranger. These analogies are what Hume has in mind. The true judge does not apply a standard, but the true judge has more perfect perception. And ideal perception is the key to having good taste. It follows that becoming better at perceiving objects will make one's taste better.

h. Edmund Burke

Like Hume and others, Edmund Burke (1729-1797) recognized that nothing seems more indeterminate than taste. Hume tried to show that since we believe there are expert opinions on matters of taste, then taste cannot be simply a personal whim. He even asserted it is likely that the standard of reason and taste are the same in human beings. The explanation, Burke claims, for thinking that reason and taste seem so different is because more people cultivate reason to a higher level. An error in reasoning could have far more negative consequences than an error in taste. For example, a heart surgeon considering which kind of operation is necessary will have greater direct consequences than someone trying to reason about whether Pablo Picasso is a better painter than Marc Chagall. The urge to cultivate taste is not present, so most people do not devote much time to it.

Though Burke recognized the ambiguities surrounding taste, he set his goal to try to uncover principles of taste. One of his starting points was the uniformity of people's organs of perception. Many people emphasize the differences between people's perception of the same event, which leads to the belief that people perceive things differently. Burke, however, maintains that if people's sense organs functioned completely differently, then every kind of reasoning would be impossible. If two people were looking at a tree, for example, then there would be nothing on which to ground their separate claims that it is a tree. They might choose to describe what they see in contradictory terms, but as Burke claims, their sense organs must actually perceive the same object. Part of his method was to catalogue the different kinds of objects and how they affect the senses and which senses they affect. Specifically, Burke chose to categorize objects according to their giving pleasure or pain. Through this catalog, Burke believed he demonstrated that people have the same physical responses of pain and pleasure to various objects. This catalog further gives foundation for a more precise theory of taste by showing the similar responses people have toward different sense stimuli.

For Burke, pleasure and pain compose the two, main aesthetic starting points for a judgment of taste, first going through the senses and the imagination. Since one rarely moves from pain to pleasure or the reverse, Burke introduces indifference as the neutral starting point for experience. In other words, one moves from a state of indifference to either pleasure or pain. If one is in an indifferent (or neutral) state, then music, for example, compels one to move to a state of pleasure. The power of the imagination utilizes the pleasure or pain to recognize the property of the object that led to that particular feeling. Depending on which one, the object is judged to be beautiful or ugly in accordance with the degree of pleasure or pain. So, Burke's notion of taste consists of three things: primary pleasures of sense, secondary pleasures of the imagination, and conclusions of the reasoning faculty.

I. Immanuel Kant

Owing to his third major critique about aesthetic judgment, Immanuel Kant (1724-1804) remains an overwhelming influence in aesthetics. Much has been written about different aspects of Kant's aesthetic theory, so this section will focus solely on his ideas surrounding taste. Though Kant fully believed that taste is subjective, he nevertheless referred to judgments of taste rather than something like feelings of taste. This choice was not a denial that feelings are relevant, since taste has to do with pleasure, but he wanted to uncover whether there were any a priori principles for taste.

As someone who liked theoretical systems, it is no surprise that Kant divides judgments of taste into moments. There are four moments that correspond with the four judgments (quality, quantity, relation, and modality) found in the Critique of Pure Reason. The first moment, disinterested pleasure, corresponds with quality. It means that in order for a judgment to be one of taste, it must not involve any interest beyond itself. Disinterested is not the same as uninterested. Disinterested is closer to a kind of detachment. The object has nothing to give other than the pleasure of itself; there is not an interest beyond itself. If one found an expensive object, one might declare that it is beautiful. However, this would not, strictly speaking, be a judgment of taste, if one were also thinking about the amount of money to be gained from its sale.

The second moment, universal pleasure, corresponds with quantity. It preserves the common belief (or feeling) that judgments about beauty are not completely subjective. We often expect others to share this belief. For example, we would find it highly unusual, if not disturbing, that someone literally believed that a sunset did not possess at least some beauty. Since Kant does not assert a specific standard of beauty, he doesn't claim everyone will actually agree about which objects are beautiful. Judgments of beauty are singular; they are about one object at a time, and each judgment presents itself as having universal appeal.

The third moment, the form of purposiveness, corresponds with relation. Specifically, he is focusing on the relation of an end or purpose, a final cause. The purpose for which an object is made governs the way it is made. A hammer has a purpose as it was made to put nails into wood; so, the idea of its purpose existed before the actual hammer. However, judgments of taste (or beauty) do not depend on concepts, so it seems that they could not have purpose. But Kant believes that a judgment of beauty cannot be solely a feeling: it must be based on formal properties. To overcome this problem, Kant employs the expression "purposiveness without a purpose." This is subjective; we must imagine that the object has a purpose even though, for an aesthetic judgment, it does not.

The fourth and last moment, necessary pleasure, corresponds with modality. Unsurprisingly, Kant does not think people find something beautiful because they must necessarily find it so. Kant explains that this necessity implies that the beautiful object is exemplary. When we see a beautiful work of art, we want to imitate it as if there were rules to follow to produce an equally beautiful object. Artists employ techniques that can be learned, but Kant believes that it is not possible to teach someone how to make a beautiful work of art even if that person masters all the techniques of a given art. Taken together, these four moments compose the basic aspects involved in making a judgment of taste.

4. Nineteenth and Twentieth Century Philosophers: The Step Away from Taste

Theories of taste rose up in the 18 th century and diminished almost as quickly. As demonstrated by sheer numbers, 19 th century philosophers were less concerned with taste than 18 th century thinkers. They didn't abandon aesthetic taste; rather, they moved from talk of aesthetic taste to talk of an aesthetic attitude. On some level, this change might seem like a mere semantic difference, but though it overlaps with taste, talk of an aesthetic attitude offers certain differences. (See also the article on Aesthetic Attitude for a fuller treatment.)

Taste is very outward looking, especially as it relates to aesthetic judgment. The object possesses concrete properties that the perceiver ought to judge as beautiful or not. Failure to make the correct judgment was considered as something deficient with the beholder. For some previous philosophers, it could be a flaw with a person's virtue that hinders the ability to perceive the beauty of the object. For others, it might be more connected to a lack of knowledge or at least the right kind of knowledge. The key idea for most traditional theories of taste was that the object has properties that the beholder must discover, though the views of people like Hume start to show a shift.

In contrast, aesthetic attitude brings the individual onlooker more to the forefront. The beholder's state of mind becomes more important as his or her attitude helps or hinders the possibility of aesthetic experience. Whether or not the original aesthetic attitude theorists believed so, these theories allow for a wider range of objects to be considered aesthetic objects. Just by adopting an aesthetic attitude, it seems like any object could be viewed as an aesthetic object. With the taste theorists, the object, apart from the spectator, must be worthy of the aesthetic appreciation it receives. Another difference lies in the fact that the aesthetic attitude can seemingly be turned on and off. Someone could adopt the aesthetic attitude in a given instance, but ignore it in a very similar situation the next day. There seems to be some truth to this because you could walk into an art museum wanting and expecting to experience wonderful things, but you could also enter with a refusal to see anything in an aesthetic light. Taste, according to the respective theories, is not something that is turned on and off. A person either has a developed or attuned sense of taste or not. In other words, the aesthetic attitude is a point of view one adopts, while aesthetic taste seems to be more connected with one's development and nature.

Two main versions of aesthetic attitude theories occur in the writings of Arthur Schopenhauer and Edward Bullough. Schopenhauer's (1788-1860) thoughts on aesthetics, we might say, mark the transition from theories of aesthetic taste to aesthetic attitude. Schopenhauer often uses the term aesthetic contemplation rather than attitude. But it seems clear that the later use of attitude can be applied retroactively to his use of contemplation. In order to have an aesthetic experience, the perceiver must have a different kind of perception about the object. No longer focused on the particulars, the perceiver experiences the ideas that are embedded in the object. We might postulate that this shift from particulars to ideas occurs when the perceiver has adopted the aesthetic attitude, though Schopenhauer never clearly spells this out. This attitude and experience are only temporary; it's an impermanent rest from the suffering of life. The attitude is very important for Schopenhauer. Most things, when viewed with the right aesthetic attitude, will become beautiful in the mind (or perception) of that specific person.

Edward Bullough (1880-1934) is not a common name in the larger history of philosophy, but he made a small but significant contribution in the field of aesthetics. Working as a psychologist, he developed a notion of psychical distance (a continuation of disinterestedness) that was to ground his idea of aesthetic attitude. He often uses the expression aesthetic consciousness instead of aesthetic attitude.

Bullough wanted to develop a notion of the experience of art without appealing to any single characteristic found in all art, since he did not believe there was such a characteristic. This belief helps to illustrate the shift that had taken place since the 18 th century, when many still believed beauty was the main characteristic of art. Bullough was more concerned with focusing on the experience that the work of art causes for the beholder. Two people looking at the same object, for instance, might have very different experiences. His solution to this dilemma is what he calls psychical distance. Bullough believed that the beholder must have the correct amount of distance between herself and the work of art. Too much or too little distance will prevent the complete aesthetic experience. It might be similar to having a conversation: Imagine trying to talk to someone in a normal conversation, and he moves his face one inch away from yours. It would be much too distracting to continue. Likewise, if someone were standing one hundred feet away from you, it would not be possible to have the intimacy that a good conversation requires. While there isn't an exact distance one must have when experiencing art (or having a conversation), there is a range of distances, and the beholder must be in that range in order for the possibility of the aesthetic experience. For Bullough, this distance is what directly affects one's taste in works of art. It is important for the beholder to learn to gauge the right distance, which can vary from person to person. People create the distance by removing practical interest from the object.

5. Contemporary Philosophy and Beyond

Theories of taste reached their peak in the 18 th century. They diminished and then changed in the 19 th century. They were left without much significance in the 20 th century. Now, in the 21 st century, few people really speak about a theory of taste. Are these theories merely relics of the past that we should find interesting only as historical artifacts? How can we account for the fact that people speak commonly and meaningfully about aesthetic taste while it seems to have diminished in academic discourse? It is not obvious how we should answer such questions. However, even though taste is no longer a prominent idea, there have been some notable contributions in the contemporary world.

a. Pierre Bourdieu

A French sociologist, Pierre Bourdieu (1930-2002) attempted to apply the methods of the social sciences to an understanding of aesthetics. In this way, he is unique because he did not work in the traditional philosophical framework that surround questions of beauty, taste, and aesthetic experience. He studied how people come to develop their tastes in various areas, but especially music. While money and time are important for developing cultural knowledge, Bourdieu claims that a crucial component comes from how someone is raised in the home and other institutions, like school. He uses the term cultural capital to refer to someone's social assets, such as education. While money may help someone gain some social assets, the salient idea is that cultural capital helps one achieve a higher class beyond their purely financial assets.

To the embedded responses a particular individual has to cultural objects, Bourdieu gives the name habitus. People belong to different aesthetic spheres, and their preferences are very similar within the sphere. He concludes that there is no value that guides one's aesthetic taste; it is developed within a person's class. This differs from views in traditional philosophy that tend to favor notions of beauty and taste from beyond one's vantage point in the realm of ideas, or even God, without reference to a person's class or context. Since people approach things from a particular situation, Bourdieu maintains that people's social context contributed significantly to their approach to aesthetic taste. In order to demonstrate this idea, Bourdieu surveyed many people belonging to different social classes. He discovered, for instance, that people from the working class believe that objects should serve a function, even aesthetic objects. However, those from the upper classes believe an object could be valuable for its own sake. One class, thought Bourdieu, would almost be disgusted by the dominant art in another class. Thus, for Bourdieu, taste is developed within one's social context, but one could move to a different class by acquiring cultural capital.

b. Gustatory Taste

Aesthetic taste began as a convenient metaphor for the judgment of the beautiful. Some recent philosophers have begun to examine whether taste must be considered only a metaphor disconnected from its natural setting. In other words, might real gustatory taste have a substantial connection with the traditional and more metaphorical notion of taste? It is a contentious topic with very few middle ground positions.

Gustatory taste can be altered-positively and negatively-with experience or education. People have different methods of preparing foods all over the world that produce different flavors. Knowing how to blend flavors and how to properly consume certain items will refine one's taste and enjoyment of certain foods and drinks. Scotch, for example, is a complex drink that can contain sweet, smoky, spicy, citrus, and other flavors. Knowing how to drink scotch to taste all of these flavors is not automatic. While there might not be an absolutely correct way to drink it, there are ways to drink it so that you taste all it has to offer. Similarly, in the context of art, one could learn how to appreciate certain kinds of art by learning how to appropriately perceive and experience them. This has nothing to do with whether the person will actually like certain art. The point is merely that one can alter or improve one's taste by learning more about the object or type of object. This education and refinement will usually increase the pleasure received in both contexts.

Whether gustatory taste is on par with traditional aesthetic taste seems to hinge on the status of food as art. This is where the larger questions loom for connecting the two kinds of taste. There are some more generally agreed upon characteristics of art that could help negotiate this question. Art is generally considered a kind of expression of emotions or ideas. While someone cooking might have positive emotions about the food or those who will consume it, the food itself does not seem to express emotion. Now there might be a situation where one person claims that the cook must love her because the cook prepared her favorite meal. There is some communication here, but the question is whether the communication was through the food as art, because something similar could be communicated with store-bought chocolate or even a bottle of wine. These things might not carry meaning (or the same meaning) for anyone else. Insofar as meaning or expression is necessary for art, gustatory taste seems to fall short of the traditional (and metaphorical) theories of taste, as suggested by Elizabeth Telfer, though she believes food to be a minor art.

c. Some Developments in Analytic Philosophy

Even though the zenith for theories of taste has passed, it has found some interest among contemporary analytic philosophers. Talk of aesthetic judgment and interpretation are more prevalent, but there are some important themes that have received attention in recent discussion. With the rise in connecting gustatory taste with aesthetic taste, some philosophers have given more weight to the personal interaction one has with an aesthetic object. Carolyn Korsmeyer and others have pointed out that taste in both the literal and metaphorical senses require a personal experience with the object. It would be suspect for people to claim that they dislike bananas, for example, if they had never eaten one or even seen one. Similarly, people cannot reasonably claim to dislike an opera or painting that they have never observed or experienced. This lack of personal familiarity becomes even more acute were they to try making a specific claim, such as stating that the colors of a painting are not well balanced throughout the composition. This claim seems impossible without actually seeing the painting. While we might trust our friend's negative review and decide not to see a work of art, we cannot reasonably make the stronger claim that something is wrong with the work without actually experiencing it. Furthermore, there is a difference between claims of taste and other kinds of factual claims. From second-hand testimony, we could learn that a sculpture is made of bronze, but we could not learn how beautiful it is unless we see it for ourselves. It seems reasonable that some kind of personal experience of an object itself or similar object (including audio or visual representations) is important for an evaluative judgment of taste. Even if it was possible to make a judgment of taste without direct experience, it would at least be necessary for someone to have a little knowledge of the kind of object under discussion.

Some questions arise about which objects are appropriate for one's judgment of taste and which people's opinions matter. Imagine a person who claimed that a toaster was the most beautiful object he had ever seen. While it seems likely that most people would not agree, is this person wrong? Frank Sibley claims that anyone can notice the non-aesthetic qualities of an object, but only some people notice its aesthetic qualities. These qualities help an observer recognize an object that is admirable. But they are not easily recognizable because of the experiences and training that each observer possesses. An issue with this view is that there can be a wide variety of legitimate opinions. One person claims an object is mildly beautiful, while another claims the same object is supremely beautiful. Both views are based on their perceptions of the same object's aesthetic qualities. Some might say that one person's taste is more refined. However, there are two residual questions. Which person's taste is refined? Plus, Jerrold Levinson raises the question about what might motivate someone to cultivate her taste to be able to perceive the finer aspects of an aesthetic object. Answers to questions about the right observer and the right object never seem to lead to a concrete answer, which creates problems for theories of taste.

In the 18 century, many connected taste with a robust account of moral goodness. With that connection dismissed by many over the last century, theories of taste, along with theories of beauty and sublimity, suffered as well. The early 21 century, however, has brought a renewed interest in several related areas: ideas of beauty with people like Roger Scruton and Nick Zangwill, the sublime with Emily Brady, and aesthetic experience with Richard Shusterman. This reappearance suggests that these traditional aesthetic concepts were perhaps ignored for too long. Thus, taste might also have the possibility of new life in the 21 st century.

6. References and Further Reading

a. Primary Sources

Bullough, Edward. "'Psychical Distance' as a Factor in Art and an Aesthetic Principle." The British Journal of Psychology, vol. 5, no. 2, 1912, pp. 87-118.
This article presents his most famous idea: psychical distance.

Burke, Edmund. A Philosophical Enquiry into the Origin of Our Ideas of the Sublime and Beautiful. London, 1757.
The earlier version has his essay "On Taste," which presents his main ideas concerning taste.

Cooper, Anthony. Third Earl of Shaftesbury. Characteristics of Men, Manners, Opinions, Times. London, 1711.
The section called "The Moralists" is where Shaftesbury spells much of his view of taste.

Herder, Johann Gottfried. Selected Writings on Aesthetics. Edited and translated by Gregory Moore, Princeton University Press, 2006.
This is a compilation of Herder's works on aesthetics, and a main discussion of taste is found in the chapters called "Critical Forests: Fourth Grove" and "The Causes of Sunken Taste."

Hume, David. "Of the Standard of Taste." In Four Dissertations, Edinburgh, 1757.
Hume introduces his notion of the ideal judge in this essay.

Hutcheson, Francis. An Inquiry into the Original of Our Ideas of Beauty and Virtue. London, 1725.
Section VI develops his belief that people have a universal sense of beauty.

Kant, Immanuel. Critique of Judgment. Berlin, 1790.
His section discussion of the four moments are of particular importance to this topic.

Mendelssohn, Moses. Philosophical Writings. Berlin, 1761.
In the section "On Sentiments," Mendelssohn (or his Theocles) talks about how he prepares himself to experience art and beauty.

Plotinus, The Enneads.
In the first Ennead, tractate 1, section 1, Plotinus discusses beauty, especially his belief that symmetry cannot be the only requirement of beauty.

Schopenhauer, Arthur. The World as Will and Idea. Leipzig, 1819.
His major work dealing with the major branches of philosophy, but Book 3 (Volume 1) is where he focuses on aesthetics.

b. Secondary Sources

Beardsley, Monroe. Aesthetics from Classical Greece to the Present: A Short History. The University of Alabama Press, 1966.
A very accessible history of the development of aesthetic ideas.

Cahn, Steven M. and Aaron Meskin. Aesthetics: A Comprehensive Anthology. Blackwell Publishing, 2008.
This is one of the best anthologies for the history of aesthetics, incorporating selections from most of the main philosophers throughout history.

Carruthers, Mary. The Experience of Beauty in the Middle Ages. Oxford University Press, 2013.
Chapter 4 offers an insightful analysis of how taste rose to prominence during the medieval period.

Dickie, George. The Century of Taste: The Philosophical Odyssey of Taste in the Eighteenth Century. Oxford University Press, 1996.
An excellent resource on five of the major philosophers on taste: Hutcheson, Gerard, Alison, Hume, and Kant.

Gaut, Berys and Dominic McIver Lopes, editors. The Routledge Companion to Aesthetics. 3rd ed., Routledge, 2013.
This is a great resource for an introduction to a wide array of issues in aesthetics, but Carolyn Kormeyer's entry on "Taste" is most relevant for this article.

Neill, Alex and Aaron Ridley, editors. Arguing about Art: Contemporary Philosophical Debates. 2nd ed., Routledge, 2002.
This book features some competing arguments on a variety of issues, but offers a helpful exchange about whether food is art in Part 1.

Wenzel, Christian Helmut. An Introduction to Kant's Aesthetics: Core Concepts and Problems. Blackwell Publishing, 2005.
A very accessible explanation of the main ideas of Kant's aesthetic theory.

Author Information

Michael R. Spicher
Email: spicher@bu.edu
Boston University
U. S. A.

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Taste is the most common trope when talking about the intellectual judgment of an object's aesthetic merit. This popularity rose to an unprecedented degree in the eighteenth century, which is the main focus of this article. Taste became a major concept in aesthetics.

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1. The Judgment of Taste

What is a judgment of taste? Kant isolated two fundamental necessary conditions for a judgment to be a judgment of taste- subjectivity and universality (Kant 1790/2000). Other conditions may also contribute to what it is to be a judgment of taste, but they are consequential on, or predicated on, the two fundamental conditions. In this respect Kant followed the lead of Hume and other writers in the British sentimentalist tradition (Hume 1757/1985).

1.1 Subjectivity

The first necessary condition of a judgment of taste is that it is essentially subjective. What this means is that the judgment of taste is based on a feeling of pleasure or displeasure. This distinguishes judgments of taste from empirical judgments. Central examples of judgments of taste are judgments of beauty and ugliness. Judgments of taste can be about art or nature.

This subjectivist thesis would be over-strict if it were interpreted in an "atomistic" fashion, so that some subjective response corresponds to every judgment of taste, and vice versa. Sometimes one makes a judgment of taste on inductive grounds or on the basis of authority. But these cases indirectly rely on judgements made on the basis of subjective responses. A more holistic picture of the relation between response and judgment would preserve the spirit of the subjectivist doctrine while fitting our actual lives more accurately. The subjectivist doctrine needs to be refined in order to deal with the cases of induction and authority. But it must not be abandoned. The doctrine is basically right.

However, it is not obvious what to make of the subjectivity of the judgment of taste. We need an account of the nature of the pleasure on which judgments of beauty are based.

Beyond a certain point, this issue cannot be pursued independently of metaphysical issues about realism, for the metaphysics we favor is bound to affect our view of the nature of the pleasure we take in beauty. In particular, we need to know whether or not pleasure in beauty represents properties of beauty and ugliness that things possess. If not, does it involve the cognitive faculties that we deploy in understanding the world, as Kant thought? Or is it not a matter of the cognitive faculties, but a matter of sentimental reactions, which are schooled in various ways, as Hume and others thought? These are very hard questions. But there are some things we can say about the pleasure involved in finding something beautiful without raising the temperature too high.

Kant makes various points about pleasure in the beautiful, which fall short of what we might call his "deep" account of the nature of pleasure in beauty, according to which it is the harmonious free play of the cognitive faculties, of imagination and understanding. According to Kant's "surface" account of pleasure in beauty, it is not mere sensuous gratification, as in the pleasure of sensation, or of eating and drinking. Unlike such pleasures, pleasure in beauty is occasioned by the perceptual representation of a thing. (In contemporary terms, we would put this by saying that pleasure in beauty has an intentional content.) Moreover, unlike other sorts of intentional pleasures, pleasure in beauty is "disinterested". This means, roughly, that it is a pleasure that does not involve desire-pleasure in beauty is desire-free. That is, the pleasure is neither based on desire nor does it produce one by itself. In this respect, pleasure in beauty is unlike pleasure in the agreeable, unlike pleasure in what is good for me, and unlike pleasure in what is morally good. According to Kant, all such pleasures are "interested"-they are bound up with desire. This is discussed in section 3 below. This is all important as far as it goes, but it is all negative. We need to know what pleasure in beauty is, as well as what it is not. What can be said of a more positive nature?

1.2 Normativity

In order to see what is special about pleasure in beauty, we must shift the focus back to consider what is special about the judgment of taste. For Kant, the judgment of taste claims "universal validity", which he describes as follows:

... ... if [someone] pronounces that something is beautiful, then he expects the very same satisfaction of others: he judges not merely for himself, but for everyone, and speaks of beauty as if it were a property of things. Hence he says that the thing is beautiful, and does not count on the agreement of others with his judgment of satisfaction because he has frequently found them to the agreeable with his own, but rather demands it from them. He rebukes them if they judge otherwise, and denies that they have taste, for he nevertheless requires that they ought to have it; and to this extent one cannot say, "Everyone has his special taste". This would be as much as to say that there is no taste at all, i.e. no aesthetic judgment that could make a rightful claim to the assent of everyone. (Kant 1790, 5: 212-213 [2000: 98]; see also 2000: 164-166-139)

Kant's idea is that in a judgment of taste, we demand or require agreement from other human beings in a way we do not in our judgments about the niceness of Canary-wine, which is just a question of individual preference. In many cases, in matters of taste and beauty, we think that others ought to share our judgment, and we blame them if they don't. This is because the judgment of taste has this aspiration to universal validity that it seems " as if [beauty] were a property of things".

We can recast the point about how we ought to judge in austere terms by saying that there is a certain normative constraint on our judgments of taste, which is absent in our judgments about the niceness of Canary-wine. The most primitive expression of this normativity is this: some are correct, others incorrect. Or perhaps, even more cautiously: some judgments are better than others. We do not think that something is beautiful merely to me, in the way that we might say that some things just happen to give me sensuous pleasure. Of course, we might well say "I think X is beautiful", because we wish to express uncertainty, but where we judge confidently, we think of our judgment as being correct. And that means that we think that the opposite judgment would be incorrect. We assume that not all judgments of beauty are equally appropriate. "Each to their own taste" only applies to judgments of niceness and nastiness, which Kant calls "judgments of agreeableness" (see Kant 1790, 5: 212-213, 291-292 [2000: 97-98, 171-172]).

Of course, some people just know about food. There are experts and authorities on making delicious food and in knowing what will taste good (Kant 1790, 5: 213 [2000: 98]). But what these people know is what will taste pleasurable to a certain kind of palate. In a sense, some things just do taste better than others, and some judgments of excellence in food are better than others. There is even a sense in which some are correct and others incorrect. Still, this is only relative to "normal" human beings. There is no idea of correctness according to which someone with very unusual pleasures and displeasure is at fault, or according to which the majority of human beings can be wrong. (Kant says that judgments of agreeableness have "general" but not "universal" validity; 1790, 5: 213 [2000: 213].) But in the case of judgments of taste or beauty, correctness is not hostage to what most people like or judge. We may say that it is a mistake to use much salt or sugar but that is only because it swamps the flavors that are enjoyed by most people.

To say that a judgment of taste makes a claim to correctness might seem merely to shift from the problematic "ought" that is involved in a judgment of taste to a problematic "correctness" or "betterness". This may be inevitable. We are dealing with a normative notion, and while some normative notions may be explainable in terms of others, we cannot express normative notions in non-normative terms.

Some so-called "experimental philosophers" have questioned the thesis that judgments of taste aspire to correctness on the basis of empirical evidence about those who make judgments of taste (Cova & Pain 2012). But it is not clear that the empirical evidence cited supports that skeptical thesis. For the evidence is just that that the experimental subjects tick boxes that ask directly about correctness in judgment. But in psychological experiments there is a requirement of opacity of the point of an experiment to the experimental subjects (Hughes 2016). Furthermore, people often wax philosophical in a way that is out of step with their actual conceptual practice. For example, some beginners in introductory moral philosophy classes inconsistently claim that all moral views are equally correct, and that it is very bad to think otherwise. People who think in a certain way may be defective in self-knowledge, just as those who take part in social rituals may not be able to describe those rituals (see Zangwill 2019 for critical discussion). We should also bear in mind that the skeptical thesis would also be very surprising given that it departs from not just centuries but millennia of reflection on our aesthetic lives. The answers to questionnaires about correctness in judgment do not reveal the deep nature of people's thoughts.

1.3 Recasting Normativity

In the normative claim of judgments of taste, as formulated above, other people do not figure in the account. This is an austere explanation of what Kant meant, or perhaps of what he ought to have meant, when he said that the judgment of taste claims "universal validity", by contrast with judgments about the niceness of Canary-wine. Given this account, we can explain the fact that we think that others ought to share our judgment. They ought to share it on pain of making a judgment which is incorrect or inappropriate. And this would be why we do in fact look to others to share our judgment; we do not want them to make incorrect judgments. It seems that Kant's reference to other people in characterizing the normativity of judgments of taste has dropped out of the picture as inessential.

However, it is not clear whether Kant would go along with this, for he characterizes normativity in a way that ties in with his eventual explanation of its possibility. Kant expresses the normative idea in a very particular way. He writes:

[we] demand such assent universally (Kant 1790, 5: 214 [2000: 99])

And Kant says that the judgment of taste involves

its validity for everyone. (Kant 1790, 5: 212 [2000: 97])

By contrast, Kant thinks that although we sometimes speak as if our judgments of the agreeable are universally valid ("Lamb tastes better with garlic"), in fact they are not: judgments of the agreeable appeal only to most but not to all people (Kant 1790, 5: 213 [2000: 98]).

However, the austere characterization attempts to catch a more basic idea of normativity-one that might serve as the target of rival explanations. In order to explain how subjectively universal judgments are possible, Kant has a complicated story about the harmonious interplay of the cognitive faculties-imagination and understanding-which he thinks constitutes pleasure in beauty (Kant 1790, 5: 219 [2000: 104]). This "deep" account of pleasure in beauty is highly controversial and not particularly plausible (see Budd 2001). But we can see why Kant gives it. For Kant, the normative claim of the judgment of taste has its roots in the more general workings of our cognitive faculties, which Kant thinks we can assume others share. Thus, we have the beginnings of an explanation of how such a pleasure can ground a judgment that makes a universal claim. However, Kant does not have much to say about the nature of the "universality" or normativity that is being explained by such a speculative account of pleasure in beauty. It is no accident that Kant phrases the obligation in interpersonal terms, considering where he is going. And it is no great fault on his part that he does so. But for our purposes, we need to separate what is being explained from its explanation. For if Kant's explanation does not work, we want to be left with a characterization of the normativity he was trying to explain. We need to separate Kant's problem from his solution, so that the former is left if the latter fails. There may be alternative solutions to his problem.

1.4 Normativity and Pleasure

As described, normativity attaches to judgments of taste themselves. What does this imply for pleasure in beauty? Since judgments of taste are based on responses of pleasure, it would make little sense if our judgments were more or less appropriate but our responses were not. The normative claim of our judgments of taste must derive from the fact that we think that some responses are better or more appropriate to their object than others. Responses only license judgments which can be more or less appropriate because responses themselves can be more or less appropriate. If I get pleasure from drinking Canary-wine and you do not, neither of us will think of the other as being mistaken. But if you don't get pleasure from Shakespeare's Sonnets, I will think of you as being in error-not just your judgment, but your liking. I think that I am right to have my response, and that your response is defective. Someone who thinks that there is, in Hume's words, "an equality of genius" between some inferior composer, on the one hand, and J. S. Bach, on the other, has a defective sensibility (Hume 1757 [1985: 230]). Roger Scruton puts the point well when he says:

When we study [the Einstein Tower and the Giotto campanile] ... our attitude is not simply one of curiosity, accompanied by some indefinable pleasure or satisfaction. Inwardly, we affirm our preference as valid.... (Scruton 1979: 105)

But how can some feelings be better or worse than others? To answer this question, we need to ask: how far does the normativity of judgments of taste inhere in the feeling itself? The realist about beauty will say that the feeling has normativity built into it in virtue of its representational content; the feelings themselves can be more or less veridical. Pleasure in beauty, for example, has as its object the property of beauty; we find the beauty pleasurable. A Humean sentimentalist will probably say that normativity is something we somehow construct or foist upon our pleasures and displeasures, which have no such content. And Kant has his own account, which appeals to cognitive states that are not beliefs. The issue is controversial. However, what we can say for sure is that it is definitive of pleasure in beauty that it licenses judgments that make claim to correctness. Beyond this, there will be theoretical divergence.

This normativity is definitive of the judgment of taste, and is its second defining characteristic, which we should add to the fact that it is based on subjective grounds of pleasure or displeasure.

1.5 Judgments of Taste and the Big Question

We can sum things up like this: judgments of taste occupy a mid-point between judgments of niceness and nastiness, and empirical judgments about the external world. Judgments of taste are like empirical judgments in that they have universal validity, but they are unlike empirical judgment in that they are made on the basis of an inner subjective response. Conversely, judgments of taste are like judgments of niceness or nastiness in that they are made on the basis of an inner subjective response, but they are unlike judgments of niceness and nastiness, which make no claim to universal validity. To cut the distinctions the other way: in respect of normativity, judgments of taste are like empirical judgments and unlike judgments of niceness or nastiness, but in respect of subjectivity, judgments of taste are unlike empirical judgments and like judgments of niceness or nastiness. So, we have a three-fold division: empirical judgments, judgments of taste, and judgments of niceness or nastiness. And judgments of taste have the two points of similarity and dissimilarity on each side just noted.

However, our hope thus far has been to get clearer about what it is that is under scrutiny in this debate. Once we are armed with a modest account of what a judgment of taste is, we can then proceed to more ambitious questions about whether or not judgments of taste represent real properties of beauty and ugliness, and if not, how else the normativity of aesthetic judgment is to be explained. We can even consider whether or not our whole practice of making judgments of taste is defective and should be jettisoned. But first things first.

2. Other Features of Aesthetic Judgments

There is more to aesthetic judgment than just subjectivity and normativity, and this should be described more fully. The following is a survey of a number of other candidate features of aesthetic judgments: truth, mind-independence, nonaesthetic dependence, and lawlessness.

2.1 Aesthetic Truth

The normativity of aesthetic judgments can be recast in terms of a particular conception of aesthetic truth. For some purposes, it is useful to do this. It might be thought that deploying the idea of aesthetic truth commits us to the existence of an aesthetic reality. But this springs from the assumption that a strong correspondence conception of truth is all there ever is to truth in any area where we might employ the notion. In many areas-scientific and psychological thought, for example-a strong correspondence conception of truth is likely to be in question. However, the conception of truth applicable in aesthetics might be one according to which truth only implies the sort of normativity described above, according to which there are correct and incorrect judgments of taste, or at least that some judgments are better than others.

If we deploy the notion of truth, we might express the normative idea by saying if a judgment is true then its opposite is false. Or we might say that the law of non-contradiction applies to aesthetic judgments: there are some aesthetic judgments such that they and their negations cannot both be true. This principle need not hold of all judgments of taste, so long as it holds of a significant proportion of them.

Such a normative conception of truth is stronger than a notion of truth which is merely a device for "semantic assent"; that is, normative truth is more than thin "disquotational" truth, according to which the notion of truth is merely a device for semantic ascent. Thus we can say "x is beautiful' is true if and only if x is beautiful. Even judgments of the agreeable, about the niceness of Canary-wine, can have access to an inconsequential disquotational conception of truth. We can say "Canary-wine is nice' is true if and only if Canary-wine is nice" without raising the temperature. However, judgments about the niceness of Canary-wine do not aspire to a normative conception of truth. There are no right and wrong answers to the question of whether Canary-wine really is nice. And so, of neither the judgment that it is nice nor the judgment that it is not nice can it be said that if it is true then its opposite is false. But this is what we do say of some aesthetic judgments.

However, although we can cast aesthetic normativity in terms of truth, we need not do so. Aesthetic "truth", in fact, adds little to the notion of correctness that we have already encountered. We can do without the word "true". We can say that something cannot both be beautiful and ugly (in the same respect at the same time), and that if something is beautiful then it is not ugly (in the same respect at the same time).

2.2 Mind-dependence and Nonaesthetic Dependence

Given an understanding of the normativity of judgments of taste-which we might or might not express in terms of aesthetic truth-we can and should add some further normative features.

One such feature is mind-independence. Mind-independence is best expressed as a negative thesis: whether something is beautiful does not depend on my judgment. Thinking it so does not make it so. This can be re-expressed in conditional terms: it is not the case that if I think something is beautiful then it is beautiful. This is common sense. For example, most of us think that our judgments have improved since we were younger. We think that some of our past judgments were in error. Thinking it so, at that time, did not make it so. Perhaps some more complicated, sophisticated mind-dependence thesis holds; but a simple mind-dependence claim flouts common sense.

This claim is very intuitive, but let us try to say something more in support of it. It seems to be a deep fact about beauty and other aesthetic properties that they are inherently "sociable"; beauty cannot be lonely. Something cannot be barely beautiful; if something is beautiful then it must be in virtue of its nonaesthetic properties. Furthermore, knowing this is a constraint on our judgments about beauty and other aesthetic properties. We cannot just judge that something is beautiful; we must judge that it is beautiful in virtue of its nonaesthetic properties. We usually do so, and not to do so is bizarre. (Even in cases of testimony, we think that the aesthetic properties of a thing hold in virtue of nonaesthetic properties that the aesthetic expert knows.) Of course, we might not have in mind every single nonaesthetic property of the thing, nor know exactly how the nonaesthetic properties produce their aesthetic effects. But we think that certain nonaesthetic properties are responsible for the aesthetic properties and that without those nonaesthetic properties, the aesthetic properties would not have been instantiated. Beauty does not float free, and recognizing this is constitutive of aesthetic thought. Our aesthetic thought, therefore, is fundamentally different from our thought about colors, with which it is often compared. Perhaps colors are tied in some intimate way to intrinsic or extrinsic physical properties of the surfaces of things, such as reflectance properties. But color thought does not presuppose this. Someone might even think that colors are bare properties of things. But one cannot think that beauty is bare; it is essential to aesthetic thought to realize that the aesthetic properties of a thing arise from its nonaesthetic properties.

The principles of correctness, mind-independence and dependence can be phrased in the property mode or in terms of truth. We can cast them either way. We can say that whether something is beautiful does not depend on what we think about it, but it does depend on its nonaesthetic features. Or we can equally well say that the truth of aesthetic judgments is independent of our aesthetic judgments but it is dependent on nonaesthetic truths. Semantic ascent changes little.

2.3 On Which Non-aesthetic Properties Do Aesthetic Properties Depend?

2.4 Dependence and Lawlessness

Thus far we have been making positive claims about features of aesthetic judgments. Let us now consider the claim that there are no interesting nonaesthetic-to-aesthetic laws or principles, and the claim that an aesthetic/nonaesthetic dependence relation can obtain, even though there are no such interesting laws or principles. Here "interesting" laws or principles means generalizations to the effect that anything of such and such a nonaesthetic kind is of such and such aesthetic kind, and these generalizations can be used to predict aesthetic properties on the basis of knowledge of nonaesthetic properties. In this sense, many find it plausible that there are no laws of taste and aesthetic properties are anomalous.

The problem of the source of correctness in aesthetic judgment is independent of the question of whether there are laws, rules or principles of taste. There is no reason to think that the possibility of correct or true judgments depends on the existence of laws, rules or principles from which we can deduce our correct or true judgments.

Nevertheless, the anomalousness of aesthetics is worth thinking about in its own right. Many aestheticians agree that the aesthetic is anomalous in the above sense. But they are not agreed on the explanation of anomalousness.

A notable exception to this consensus is Monroe Beardsley, who claims-heroically and extraordinarily-that there are exactly three aesthetic principles: things are aesthetically excellent either by being unified or intense or complex (Beardsley 1958: chapter XI). However, Beardsley's "trinitarian" position faces difficulties similar to those faced by moral philosophers who appeal to "thick" concepts. If Beardsley insists on a lawlike connection between his three thick substantive aesthetic properties (unity, intensity and complexity) and aesthetic value, he can only do so at the cost of conceding anomalousness between the three thick substantive aesthetic properties and nonaesthetic properties. There are three layers and one can hold onto laws between the top and middle layers only by losing laws between the middle and bottom layers. Maybe intensity is always aesthetically good, but there are no laws about what makes things intense.

Granting the anomalousness of aesthetic properties, then, we need to explain it. There is much plausibility in Hume and Kant's suggestion that what explains the anomalousness of the aesthetic is the first feature of judgments of taste-that judgments of taste are essentially subjective, unlike ordinary empirical judgments about physical, sensory, or semantic properties (Hume 1757 [1985: 231-232]; Kant 1790, 5: 213-216, 281-286 [2000: 99-101, 136-142, 162-167]). This is why the two sorts of concepts are not "nomologically made for each other" (as Donald Davidson [1970] says about mental and physical concepts). How can we bring an essentially subjective range of judgments nomologically into line with a range of empirical judgments? The two kinds of judgments answer to quite different sets of constraints. Frank Sibley observed that aesthetic concepts are not positively "condition-governed" (Sibley 1959). And Mary Mothersill claimed that there are no laws of taste. But neither did much to explain those facts. The appeal to subjectivity explains what Sibley and Mothersill notice and describe. Indeed, Mothersill writes of her "First Thesis" (FT) that there are no genuine principles or laws of taste: "...FT is central to aesthetics, and there is nothing more fundamental from which it could be derived" (Mothersill 1984: 143). But it seems that it can be derived from the subjectivity of judgments of taste.

This kind of anomalousness is one thing, dependence or supervenience another. Even though aesthetic properties are anomalous, they depend and supervene on nonaesthetic properties. Many find such a combination of relations uncomfortable outside aesthetics, such as in moral philosophy and the philosophy of mind. Yet there seem to be good reasons to embrace both principles in aesthetics. Both are firmly rooted in ordinary aesthetic thought.

2.5 The Primacy of Correctness

Aesthetic judgments have certain essential features, and corresponding to those features are certain principles. We can group correctness, mind-independence, and nonaesthetic dependence together. However, it does no harm to focus on the feature of correctness or universal validity for this is the most basic of the features. If aesthetic judgments did not claim correctness or universal validity, they could not claim the other features. If explaining correctness or universal validity is a problem, then so is explaining mind-independence and dependence. But clearly there is a problem about explaining all three features. Why does our aesthetic thought have these three features and thus operate according to these three principles? And what is the source of the right of aesthetic judgments to them? Hume and Kant spend much mental effort on these questions. These presuppositions of aesthetic judgments need to be explained and justified. Given that our aesthetic judgments have these commitments, we need to know how such judgments are possible, how they are actual, and how they are legitimate. Having described and analyzed, as we have done here, we need to explain and justify. But, as noted earlier, we first need a good description of what we are trying to explain and justify.

3. Disinterestedness

3.1 Disinterestedness: More and Less Ambitious

An idea that plays a large role in Kant's discussion of the subjective universality of the judgment of taste is that of disinterestedness; and the idea has appealed to many. Kant makes two claims: (a) that pleasure in the beautiful is "disinterested"; and (b) that only pleasure in the beautiful is "disinterested" (Kant 1790, 5: 204-210 [2000: 90-96: 42-50]). These claims are important for Kant's project, for Kant connects disinterestedness with the claim to universal validity of the judgment of taste. Before we go any further, it is important to recognize that the German word " interesse" has a special meaning in eighteenth century German, and it should not be confused with similar sounding English words or contemporary German words. For Kant, an interesse means a kind of pleasure that is not connected with desire; it is neither grounded in desire, nor does it produce it.

We should distinguish Kant's more ambitious thesis that only pleasure in the beautiful is disinterested from his less ambitious claim simply that pleasure in the beautiful is disinterested-for it seems that there could in principle be other disinterested pleasures. The less ambitious claim, however, is controversial enough.

A relatively uncontroversial part of the less ambitious claim is that pleasure in the beautiful is not grounded in the satisfaction of desire. It is plausible, surely, that when we take pleasure in something that we find beautiful, this is not pleasure in the thought that we have got something that we desire. Kant wants pleasure in the beautiful to be open to all (so there should be no "aesthetic luck"), and if desires vary from person to person, it seems that we could not require that pleasure from everyone, as the idea of universal validity requires. The claim to universal validity would be lost if pleasure in beauty were not disinterested in the sense of not being based on desire. This part of the idea of disinterestedness has much plausibility.

3.2 Problems with Disinterestedness

The less ambitious thesis is controversial because of the second component. An opponent of Kant might claim, not implausibly, that pleasure in beauty can produce desire by itself. It is not clear who is right on this point.

Moreover, whether only pleasure in beauty is disinterested, and no other kind of pleasures are disinterested-the ambitious thesis-is also controversial. These are live issues. Kant's views have much to be said for them. But we can also sympathize with those who are doubtful.

Hume would probably deny Kant's separation of pleasure in beauty from the motivations that lead us to act. Like other British sentimentalists, Hume thinks that sentiment and passion both fall on the active side of the human mind. So, sentiments are active in themselves. However, this aspect of the British sentimentalist views looks like a general weakness since they have no convincing place for a faculty of practical reason, and that means, in turn, that they lack any intelligible conception of human action (Korsgaard 1996, 2009). Hume's psychology has no plausible understanding of human agency; we are pushed around by our passions.

But this only follows if we follow Kant in locating pleasure in beauty, and our right to make judgments of beauty, in faculties that all human beings share. Perhaps there are rarefied beauties that only Nietzsche's elite special souls can appreciate. For Kant, there is an aesthetic "ought" that binds all human beings only because we share the cognitive faculties that it takes to have the pleasure in question. But this is not the only conceivable source of the aesthetic "ought". One non-Kantian suggestion would be to locate the source of normativity of the judgment of taste, in the world, not in what human beings share. This would be to invoke a kind of "aesthetic realism", whereby beauty and ugliness are genuine properties of the world, which make our judgments better or worse. That view might seem metaphysically extravagant. The trouble, though, is how to understand the aesthetic "ought" without that kind of view. Not easy! On a realist view, beauty need not be universally available. But if so, it seems that the rationale for Kant's doctrine(s) of disinterestedness falls away. The Kantian and perhaps Humean view locates the source of normativity in what we share. But Nietzsche would ask: is there, and should there, be something that humans share in their responses to beauty? Do we want aristocratic or democratic aesthetics?

4. The Notion of the Aesthetic

4.1 Some Terminological Remarks

Let us now turn to the contemporary notion of the aesthetic. The predicate "aesthetic" can qualify many different kinds of things: judgments, experiences, concepts, properties, or words. It is probably best to take aesthetic judgments as central. We can understand other aesthetic kinds of things in terms of aesthetic judgments: aesthetic properties are those that are ascribed in aesthetic judgments; aesthetic experiences are those that ground aesthetic judgments; aesthetic concepts are those that are deployed in aesthetic judgments; and aesthetic words are those that have the function of being used in the linguistic expression of aesthetic judgments.

The most common contemporary notion of an aesthetic judgment would take judgments of beauty and ugliness as paradigms-what we called "judgments of taste" in part 1. And it excludes judgments about physical properties, such as shape and size, and judgments about sensory properties, such as colors and sounds. However, in addition to judgments of beauty and ugliness, the contemporary notion of an aesthetic judgment is typically used to characterize a class of judgments that also includes judgments of daintiness, dumpiness, delicacy and elegance. In this respect, the contemporary notion seems to be broader than Kant's, since he focused just on judgments of beauty and ugliness. However, there is also a respect in which the contemporary notion seems to be narrower than Kant's notion. For Kant used the notion to include both judgments of beauty (or of taste) as well as judgments of the agreeable-for instance, the judgment that Canary-wine is nice (Kant 1790, 5: 203-204, 214 [2000: 89-90 and 99]). But the modern notion, unlike Kant's, usually excludes judgments of the agreeable. Moreover, the contemporary notion usually excludes judgments about pictorial and semantic content of a work of art. For example, the judgment that a painting represents a flower might be "relevant" to an aesthetic judgment about it, but it is not itself an aesthetic judgment.

4.2 The Problem

There are worries: is the contemporary classification "aesthetic" arbitrary? What is it that distinguishes judgments as aesthetic? What do they have in common? How do they differ from other kinds of judgment? Do these judgments form a well-behaved kind?

It may be worth mentioning in passing that the notion of an aesthetic judgment should obviously not be elucidated in terms of the idea of a work of art; we make aesthetic judgments about nature and we make nonaesthetic judgments about works of art.

The articulation and defense of the notion of the aesthetic in modern times is associated with Monroe Beardsley (1958, 1982) and Frank Sibley (1959, 1965). But their work was attacked by George Dickie, Ted Cohen and Peter Kivy among others (Dickie 1965, Cohen 1973, Kivy 1975).

As noted in Section 2.4, Beardsley claimed, heroically, that aesthetic experience is distinguished by its unity, intensity and complexity. Dickie argued, in reply, that such characteristics were either not plausibly necessary conditions of aesthetic experience, or else that Beardsley's description of them was inadequate. Part of Dickie's attack was beside the point, since he confused aesthetic experiences with the experiences of works of art; the fact that some experiences of works of art are not as Beardsley describes is irrelevant. But it cannot be denied that Dickie was right that even if the problems with characterizing the three features were resolved, it would still not be plausible that the three Beardsleyian features are necessary (or sufficient) conditions of aesthetic experience. Nevertheless, all that would show would be that Beardsley's account of the aesthetic is inadequate. That Beardsley's extraordinary and heroic trinitarian doctrine cannot be maintained does not mean that the notion of the aesthetic should be abandoned. That would be a flawed induction from a single instance.

Sibley claimed that the discernment of aesthetic properties requires a special sensitivity, whereas the discernment of nonaesthetic properties could be achieved by anyone with normal eyes and ears. Furthermore, Sibley claimed that it was distinctive of aesthetic terms or concepts that they were not "condition-governed", in the sense that they had no nonaesthetic positive criteria for their application. He thought of the faculty of taste as special mental faculty, possessed by people with a distinctive sensitivity. This account of the aesthetic was inadvisable, since it allowed critics like Cohen and Kivy to argue that ascribing many aesthetic properties did not in fact require a special faculty, since anyone can distinguish a graceful line from an ungraceful line. Moreover, some aesthetic ascriptions, such as elegance, do seem to be nonaesthetically "condition-governed", in Sibley's sense. Nevertheless-once again-that Sibley's positive account of the aesthetic is implausible should not lead us to despair about the aesthetic. On the other hand, a pessimistic induction, now with two instances under its belt, is perhaps looking a little less unhealthy-especially given two such distinguished exponents.

Despite this, Sibley was surely minimally right to think that ascribing aesthetic properties to a thing requires more than merely knowing its nonaesthetic properties. Whether or not the extra something is distinctively difficult, erudite, sophisticated or non-condition-governed, it is something over and above nonaesthetic understanding. So perhaps we should keep on trying to articulate the notion of the aesthetic, or at least a useful notion of the aesthetic.

4.3 A Hierarchical Proposal

One strategy is the following: begin with the account of what it is to be a judgment of taste, or of beauty and ugliness, that was outlined in part 1, and then use that to elucidate a broader notion of an aesthetic judgment. To recall, it was argued that Kant was right, with qualifications, to think that the crucial thing about the judgment of taste is that it has what he calls "subjective universality"; judgments of taste are those that are (a) based on responses of pleasure or displeasure, and (b) claim universal validity, where that can be minimally interpreted as a normative aspiration. The present strategy is to use this Kantian account in order to ground a wider category of the aesthetic, which includes judgments of taste along with judgments of daintiness, dumpiness, delicacy, elegance, and the rest.

Let us call judgments of taste, or judgments of beauty and ugliness, "verdictive aesthetic judgments", and let us call the other aesthetic judgments (of daintiness, dumpiness, elegance, delicacy, etc.) "substantive aesthetic judgments". The idea is that these substantive judgments are aesthetic in virtue of some special close relation to verdictive judgments of taste, which are subjectively universal. We can assume that judgments of beauty and ugliness coincide with judgments of aesthetic merit and demerit. However, even if beauty were taken to be a substantive aesthetic notion, like elegance, delicacy or daintiness, there would remain some other overarching notion of aesthetic merit or excellence, and we could take that notion as central.

On this approach, judgments of daintiness, dumpiness, delicacy and elegance stand in some special and intimate relation to judgments of beauty and ugliness (or aesthetic merit and demerit), and it is only in virtue of this intimate relation that we can think of all these judgments as belonging to the same category. This is a hierarchical rather than an egalitarian conception of aesthetic notions

Now, what exactly is this special intimate relation between verdictive and substantive aesthetic judgments? One suggestion is this: first, substantive judgments describe ways of being beautiful or ugly (Burton 1992, Zangwill 1995). It is part of what it is for a thing to be elegant, delicate or dainty that it is beautiful in a particular way. And second, it is part of the meaning of substantive aesthetic judgments that they imply verdictive aesthetic judgments. This is the hierarchical proposal.

Remark: this claim need not be one about all words like "dainty" and "delicate", but it is about the particular substantive judgments that we linguistically express in such words on particular occasions. Both Beardsley and Sibley seem to have made the mistake of casting these issues at the linguistic level rather than at the level of thought; they focused not on aesthetic words instead of aesthetic judgments and responses. Sibley did say in footnote 1 of Sibley 1959 that he was concerned with "uses" of aesthetic words, but he and everyone else ignored that qualification.

Let us now see how this hierarchical proposal works. Consider an abstract pattern of curving lines, which is elegant. It might be necessary that that pattern is beautiful. This is because the beauty depends on or is determined by that specific pattern. But it is not part of what it is to be that pattern that it is beautiful. That is, the pattern is necessarily beautiful but it is not essentially beautiful. (On the general distinction between necessity and essence, see Fine 1994.) Furthermore, we can think of that pattern without thinking of it as beautiful.

By contrast, it is both necessary and essential that something that is elegant is beautiful. And this is reflected in our concepts and judgments. We can think of the pattern without thereby thinking of it as beautiful, but to think of the pattern as elegant is to think of it as beautiful, at least in certain respects. Hence elegance is an aesthetic concept.

The hierarchical proposal thus seems to characterize a non-arbitrary and useful notion of the aesthetic. If so, the contemporary broad notion of the aesthetic can be vindicated.

To see how this works, consider representational properties. Are they aesthetic properties? Suppose that a painting represents a tree and is a beautiful representation of a tree. It is not merely beautiful and a tree representation but beautiful as a tree representation (Zangwill 1999). Of course, that the painting represents a tree is "relevant" to whether it is beautiful because it is part of what its beauty depends on. But being beautiful is not part of what it is to be a representation of a tree or even that representation of a tree. Moreover, to think that the painting represents a tree is not thereby to think that it is beautiful. Being beautiful is not an essential property of the representation, and thinking of the representation does not mean thinking of it as beautiful, even though it may be necessary that it is beautiful. Hence representational properties are not aesthetic properties.

The proposal faces a challenge, however. Jerrold Levinson has argued that not all substantive properties have evaluative valence (Levinson 2001). One of his examples is of "starkly grim". Being starkly grim seems not always to be a way of being beautiful or ugly. The defender of hierarchy could reply that it is specific uses of these words, in context, that pick out features that have evaluative valences. If so, the particular instance of stark grimness might be a valuable aspect of a thing however it is with other instances of stark grimness. But it might be replied that particular instances of stark grimness may be value-neutral? The issue is a difficult one, and I leave the issue here.

If the hierarchical suggestion fails, then we lack one way of vindicating the modern broad notion of the aesthetic. Maybe there are other ways to give unity to the notion of the aesthetic. However, it is not clear that there is another feasible way in the literature. Levinson thinks of aesthetic properties as a certain kind of appearance properties. We might note that this will immediately rule out the aesthetic properties of abstract objects by fiat. More importantly, there remains the question of what kind of appearance properties aesthetic properties are. Even if we are happy with indefinite boundaries of the aesthetic, we need some sense of what the sub-class is, and its relation to pleasure and beauty. (We might compare the difficulties in characterizing a notion of the aesthetic with the difficulties characterizing a notion of logic.)

4.4 Beauty and Sublimity

One notion that is hard to place among other aesthetic notions is that of sublimity. There is a long and venerable tradition of thinking that beauty and sublimity share equal status as fundamental aesthetic categories. Sublimity comes in different varieties. Kant distinguishes "mathematically" and "dynamically" sublime, roughly, corresponding to our sense of the enormity and power of things. The fundamental question about beauty and sublimity is whether they exclude each other. According to the long and venerable tradition, if something is sublime then it is not beautiful and vice versa. Many have conceived of sublimity such that it excludes beauty. But this is questionable.

If we conceive of beauty narrowly, where it merely means a certain elegance and prettiness (as Levinson does in Levinson 2012), then that narrow concept of beauty would be a substantive aesthetic property. That notion of beauty may exclude sublimity. However, it is not clear that there is reason to restrict beauty in this way. If, on the contrary, beauty (or at least a concept of beauty) is a generic over-arching aesthetic value, then one suggestion would be that sublimity should be understood as a kind of beauty. In that case, it would turn out that it is sublimity that is a substantive aesthetic concept, not beauty. On that view, beauty and sublimity are not opposed to each other. Instead sublimity is a kind of magnificent beauty or a spectacular or extraordinary way of being beautiful.

Edmund Burke links sublimity with pain as well as pleasure, perhaps drawing on Aristotle's idea of "catharsis" (Burke 1757). The idea seems to be that judgments of sublimity are grounded on both pleasure and pain, whereas judgments of beauty are grounded only on pleasure. While this may fit the aesthetic experience of wind and rain in a storm at sea or up a mountain, it does not fit the sublimity of the stars in the sky and sublime delicacy of a spider's web, where there is no exciting terror. So the pain account is not generally true of the sublime.

Richard Wagner claimed that there was musical sublimity in Beethoven's Ninth Symphony, and that was its great innovation, to take us beyond the merely musically-beautiful to the sublime (Wagner 1870, contrast Hanslick 1950, 1986). Many musicologists follow Wagner, (such as Richard Taruskin [1989, 2019]). But on that view, if sublimity is associated with danger and extremity, it is not clear that we have a plausible story of why people seek out the sublime in music. Is it a kind of thrill-seeking, like fairground rides or rock climbing, where people believe themselves to be in danger or at least cannot help imagining that they are? Is their experience of Beethoven's Ninth mixed with pain in this way? This seems unlikely. Pain and fear have natural expressions on the human face, but the human faces of audiences listening to Beethoven's Ninth are not noticeably different from the human faces listening to Mozart, Chopin or Tchaikovsky. Their faces are unlike those of those on fairground rides or rock climbers who have to make difficult moves. Furthermore, the audience of the Ninth are not motivated to flee from the concert hall. Do they have to be strapped into their seats to prevent escape as on a fairground ride (contra McClary 1991)? By contrast, on the substantive view of the sublime as a kind of beauty, there is a distinctive kind of pleasure that characterizes the experience of the sublime, on which judgments of the sublime are based. It is an intense pleasure, to be sure. But intensity does not entail a mixture with pain.

Sublimity in a representational art, such as painting, is a different matter. John Martin's wonderful painting Apocalypse, for example, does evoke a kind of terror, at least imagined terror. We might plausibly say that this sublimity is not a kind of beauty, even though it is certainly a kind of artistic excellence. What this suggests is that we should avoid a unitary theory of the sublime. Some sublimity is a way of being beautiful, and some is not.

The main downside of this view is that it breaks with one major strand of the intellectual tradition in thinking about the sublime in opposition to beauty. But it is hard to know much to weigh that if we are seeking a useful concept for organizing our experiences of art and nature.

4.5 Aesthetic Morals

Substantive aesthetic judgments attracted much attention in the latter half of the twentieth century. If the hierarchical proposal is right, they cannot be studied in isolation, for the role of such judgments is to serve verdictive aesthetic judgments of beauty and ugliness. Beauty and ugliness are the primary aesthetic notions, which give sense to the wider class that contemporary aestheticians include as "aesthetic". The broad notion of the aesthetic can be fixed by what it is to judge that something is beautiful or ugly, or that it has aesthetic merit or demerit. By seeing beauty and ugliness as the preeminent aesthetic notions we can make sense of a unitary category of the aesthetic, which includes the dainty and the dumpy, elegance and sublimity, and which excludes physical, sensory and representational properties of things, as well as their agreeableness. The hierarchical proposal seems to allow us to make the aesthetic/nonaesthetic distinction in a useful way and answer Beardsley and Sibley's critics. Perhaps in this way the notion of the aesthetic can be defended. However, some may think that Levinson is right about substantive aesthetic concepts and judgments, in which case the notion of the aesthetic has a question mark hanging over it.

Bibliography

References

Barker, John, 2009, "Mathematical Beauty", Sztuka i Filozofia, 35: 65-74.
A powerful defence of the claim that mathematical and logical proofs have aesthetic properties.

Beardsley, Monroe C., 1958, Aesthetics: Problems in the Philosophy of Criticism, Indianapolis, IN: Hackett.
An extraordinary work, impressive in scope, deploying the notion of the aesthetic. The target of Dickie's critique.

---, 1982, The Aesthetic Point of View: Selected Essays, Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press.
A selection of Beardsley's essays.

Blackburn, Simon, 1998, Ruling Passions: A Theory of Practical Reasoning, Oxford: Oxford University Press.
A defense of expressivism, a modern version of Hume's sentimentalism.

Budd, Malcolm, 2001, "The Pure Judgement of Taste as an Aesthetic Reflective Judgement", British Journal of Aesthetics, 41(3): 247-260. doi:10.1093/bjaesthetics/41.3.247
Refreshingly less deferential than many writings on Kant.

Burke, Edmund, 1757 [1998], A Philosophical Enquiry into the Origin of Our Ideas of the Sublime and Beautiful, London: R. and J. Dodsley. Reprinted Harmonsworth: Penguin, 1998.
A classic, although it is sometimes eccentric.

Burton, Stephan L., 1992, "'Thick' Concepts Revised", Analysis, 52(1): 28-32. doi:10.1093/analys/52.1.28
An insightful account of substantive aesthetic descriptions, and also of so-called "thick moral concepts".

Cohen, Ted, 1973, " Aesthetic/Non-Aesthetic and the Concept of Taste: A Critique of Sibley's Position", Theoria, 39(1-3): 113-152. doi:10.1111/j.1755-2567.1973.tb00633.x
Argues that Sibley's account of what makes concepts aesthetic will not do.

Cova, Florian and Nicholas Pain, 2012, "Can Folk Aesthetics Ground Aesthetic Realism?", Monist, 95(2): 241-263. doi:10.5840/monist201295214
Argues that folk aesthetic is not normativist.

Dickie, George, 1965, "Beardsley's Phantom Aesthetic Experience", Journal of Philosophy, 62(5): 129-136. doi:10.2307/2023490
Argues that Beardsley's account of aesthetic experience will not do.

Fine, Kit, 1994, "Essence and Modality: The Second Philosophical Perspectives Lecture", Philosophical Perspectives, 8: 1-16. doi:10.2307/2214160
Distinguishes essence from modality; of general philosophical importance.

Gombrich, Ernst H., 1959, Art and Illusion: A Study in the Psychology of Pictorial Representation, London: Phaiden.
Argues for anti-formalism by appeal to indiscernibles.

Gorodeisky, Keren and Eric Marcus, 2018, "Aesthetic Rationality", The Journal of Philosophy, 115(3): 113-140.

---, 2022, "Aesthetic Knowledge", Philosophical Studies, 179: 2507-2535.

Hanslick, Eduard, 1986, On the Musically Beautiful, transl. Geoffrey Payzant, Indianapolis: Hackett.
Classic work of musical aesthetics, first published in 1854. Written with panache and wit.

Hanslick, Eduard, 1950, Hanslick's Music Criticism, translated and edited by Henry Pleasants, London: Dover.
Critical reviews of Bach and Wagner and others. You almost feel sorry for Wagner reading some of these.

Hughes, Brian, 2016, Rethinking Psychology: Good Science, Bad Science, Pseudo-Science, London: Macmillan.
Thorough critique of much questionnaire psychology, posing fundamental challenges for so-called "experimental philosophy".

Hume, David, 1757 [1985], "Of the Standard of Taste", page reference is to reprint in Essays: Moral, Political and Literary, Eugene Miller (ed.), Indianapolis, IN: Liberty, 1985.
Hume's classic attempt to reconcile sentimentalism with normativity.

---, 1991, "Science and Aesthetic Appreciation", Midwest Studies in Philosophy, 16(1): 180-195. doi:10.1111/j.1475-4975.1991.tb00238.x
Sympathetic to mathematical beauty.

Korsgaard, Christine M., 1996, The Sources of Normativity, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. doi:10.1017/CBO9780511554476
Defends a Kantian view of agency and includes a powerful critique of sentimentalist accounts.

---, 2009, Self-Constitution: Agency, Identity, and Integrity, Oxford: Oxford University Press. doi:10.1093/acprof:oso/9780199552795.001.0001
Deploys the idea that we aim at a kind of unity in our actions.

Lord, Errol, 2019, "The Nature of Perceptual Expertise and the Rationality of Criticism", Ergo, 6(29). doi:10.3998/ergo.12405314.0006.029

McClary, Susan, 1991: Feminine Endings: Music, Gender, and Sexuality. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press.
A classic of so-called 'New Musicology'.

Mitrović, Branko, 2013, Visuality for Architects: Architectural Creativity and Modern Theories of Perception and Imagination, Charlottesville, VA: University of Virginia Press.
Puts the visual dimension back into architecture.

---, 2018, "Visuality and Aesthetic Formalism", British Journal of Aesthetics, 58(2): 147-163. doi:10.1093/aesthj/ayy001
Explores and defends the psychological basis of visual formalism.

Mothersill, Mary, 1984, Beauty Restored, Oxford: Oxford University Press.
An exploration of the notion of beauty, with some historical coverage.

Nguyen, C Thi, 2020, "Autonomy and Aesthetic Engagement", Mind, 129(516): 1127-1156.

Scruton, Roger, 1974, Art and Imagination: A Study in the Philosophy of Mind, London: Methuen.
A wide-ranging book, in which the role of imagination is highlighted.

---, 1979, The Aesthetics of Architecture, London: Methuen.
A superb discussion of architecture, but also contains much material relevant to more central topics in aesthetics.

Schellekens, Elisabeth 2007 [2017], "Conceptual Art", Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy (Winter 2017 edition), Edward N. Zalta (ed.). URL = <https://plato.stanford.edu/archives/win2017/entries/conceptual-art/>
A sympathetic interpretation of some of the claims of conceptual artists about their work.

Sibley, Frank, 1959, "Aesthetic Concepts", Philosophical Review, 68(4): 421-450; reprinted in Sibley 2001: 1-23. 10.2307/2182490 & doi:10.1093/0198238991.003.0001
Sibley's classic paper, which makes the notion of the aesthetic central. The target of Cohen and Kivy's critiques.

---, 1965, "Aesthetic and Nonaesthetic", Philosophical Review, 74(2): 135-159; reprinted in Sibley 2001: 33-51. doi:10.2307/2183262 & doi:10.1093/0198238991.003.0003
Explores the dependence of aesthetic features on nonaesthetic features. This paper was originally the second part of Sibley's paper "Aesthetic Concepts".

---, 2001, Approach to Aesthetics, John Benson, Betty Redfern, and Jeremy Roxbee Cox (eds.), Oxford University Press. doi:10.1093/0198238991.001.0001

Wagner, Richard 1870 [2014], Beethoven, translated by Roger Allen, Boydell Press. Originally published Leipzig: Verlag von E. W. Fritzsche.
Makes claims about the sublime in Beethoven.

Walton, Kendall, 1970, "Categories of Art", Philosophical Review, 79: 334-367.
Influential series of anti-formalist arguments.

Williams, Jessica J., 2021, "Kant on Aesthetic Attention", British Journal of Aesthetics 61. No. 4, pp. 421-435.
A vigorous recent investigation of Kant's views.

Zangwill, Nick, 1995 [2001], "The Beautiful, the Dainty and the Dumpy", British Journal of Aesthetics, 35(4): 317-329; reprinted slightly modified in Zangwill 2001: 9-23. doi:10.1093/bjaesthetics/35.4.317
Includes a statement and defense of the centrality of beauty and ugliness among other aesthetic concepts.

---, 1999 [2001], "Feasible Aesthetic Formalism", Noûs, 33(4): 610-629; reprinted in Zangwill 2001: 55-81. doi:10.1111/0029-4624.00196
Argues for a "moderate" formalist view that allows that things can be "dependently beautiful", in Kant's sense.

---, 2001, The Metaphysics of Beauty, Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press.

---, 2013, "Nietzsche on Kant on Beauty and Disinterest", History of Philosophy Quarterly, 30(1): 75-91. [Zangwill 2013 available online]
Sympathetically interprets and defends Nietzsche's criticism of Kant on disinterest.

---, 2019, "Folk Aesthetics and Normativity: A Critique of Experimental Aesthetics", in Advances in Experimental Philosophy of Aesthetics, Florian Cova and Sébastien Réhault (eds), London: Bloomsbury.
Criticizes 'experimental philosophy', in general, and in particular the experimental denial that ordinary aesthetic judgments claim correctness.

Zemach, Eddy, 1995, Real Beauty, University Park: Penn State Press.
Argues for an extreme realist view.

Zuckert, Rachel, 2007, Kant on Beauty and Biology: An Interpretation of the Critique of Judgment, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. doi:10.1017/CBO9780511487323
An insightful scholarly and philosophical investigation.

Further Reading

Bender, John W., 1995, "General but Defeasible Reasons in Aesthetic Evaluation: The Particularist/Generalist Dispute", Journal of Aesthetics and Art Criticism, 53(4): 379-392. doi:10.2307/430973

Dickie, George, 1988, Evaluating Art, Philadelphia: Temple University Press.

Goldman, Alan, 1995, Aesthetic Value, Boulder, CO: Westview.

Greenberg, Clement, 1999, Homemade Esthetics, Oxford: Oxford University Press.

Hopkins, Robert, 2011, "How to Be a Pessimist about Aesthetic Testimony",, Journal of Philosophy, 108(3): 138-157. doi:10.5840/jphil201110838

Kivy, Peter, 1968, "Aesthetic Aspects and Aesthetic Qualities", Journal of Philosophy, 65(4): 85-93. doi:10.2307/2024481

Levinson, Jerrold, 1992 [1996], "Pleasure and the Value of Works of Art", The British Journal of Aesthetics, 32(4): 295-306. Reprinted in hisThe Pleasures of Aesthetics: Philosophical Essays, Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 11-24. doi:10.1093/bjaesthetics/32.4.295

McCloskey, Mary, 1987, Kant's Aesthetic, New York: SUNY Press.

Plato, Hippias Major. In Plato's Complete Works, edited by John Cooper, Indianapolis: Hackett, 1997.

Saito, Yuriko, 2001, "Everyday Aesthetics", Philosophy and Literature, 25)1): 87-95. doi:10.1353/phl.2001.0018

---, 2007, Everyday Aesthetics, Oxford: Oxford University Press. doi:10.1093/acprof:oso/9780199278350.001.0001

Scruton, Roger, 1983, "Understanding Music", in his The Aesthetic Understanding: Essays in the Philosophy of Art and Culture, London: Carcanet.

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What is a judgment of taste? Kant isolated two fundamental necessary conditions for a judgment to be a judgment of taste- subjectivity and universality (Kant 1790/2000). Other conditions may also contribute to what it is to be a judgment of taste, but they are consequential on, or predicated on, the two fundamental conditions.

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MODELING THE APPEARANCE OF THE ROUND BRILLIANT CUTDIAMOND: AN ANALYSIS OF BRILLIANCE

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MODELING THE APPEARANCE OF THE ROUND BRILLIANT CUT DIAMOND:AN ANALYSIS OF FIRE, AND MORE ABOUT BRILLIANCE

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To desire something is a condition familiar to everyone. It is uncontroversial that desiring has something to do with motivation, something to do with pleasure, and something to do with reward. Call these "the three faces of desire."

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The basic phenomenon of moral motivation might be given a more systematic depiction as follows, using ' P ' to stand for some person or individual and 'φ' and 'ψ' each to stand for some action:

When P judges that it would be morally right to φ, she is ordinarily motivated to φ; should P later become convinced that it would be wrong to φ and right to ψ instead, she ordinarily ceases to be motivated to φ and comes to be motivated to ψ.

This depiction aims to capture features of our common experience. As observation suggests, people generally feel moved to do what they judge it right to do; what is more, their motivation ordinarily shifts to match or "track" changes in their moral judgments. If an individual judges it right to keep a promise rather than to aid a stranger in need, she will ordinarily feel moved, at least to some degree, to act so as to fulfill the promise. If she comes to change her mind about the priority of her promise, she will ordinarily no longer be moved to keep the promise and will be moved instead to provide aid.

Before we turn to the many questions which the foregoing depiction leaves open, and which lie at the heart of debates about the nature of moral motivation, we should make note of two important points. First, the depiction says nothing about the strength of moral motivation. For all that it tells us, the motivation all or some people feel to do what they judge right might be extraordinarily weak. Common experience suggests that moral motivation in fact tends to be fairly robust, but with one qualification to be noted later, philosophical views about moral motivation generally follow the depiction in taking no position regarding the exact strength of moral motivation. Second, the depiction reflects a widely shared assumption, one which forms part of the backdrop for debates about the nature of moral motivation, namely, that moral motivation is a strikingly regular and reliable phenomenon. Throughout social life, in both our personal relations and our public interactions, we take it for granted that moral judgments dependably, if not unfailingly, motivate, that they effectively influence and guide how people feel and act. Still, the assumption is not wholly uncontroversial; indeed, some have expressed serious doubts regarding whether moral motivation is as regular and reliable as we commonly suppose (Copp 1997, 50).

The basic phenomenon of moral motivation seems relatively straightforward. The difficult philosophical task becomes one of attempting to understand and explain more fully and precisely the nature of moral motivation. Sections 2 and 3 explore two approaches to the task. While the approach discussed in section 3 has been predominant, the approach to be considered briefly in section 2 provides an instructive contrast, as well as a useful first glimpse of how ideas about moral motivation have been thought to bear on broader metaethical questions. Section 4 explores more general considerations about moral motivation and metaethics, while section 5 considers alleged implications for philosophical theories about moral motivation from recent work in empirical psychology.

When we judge that an action is right or wrong or that a state of affairs is good or bad, we seem to represent the world as being a certain way. We seem to express a moral belief, attributing a particular moral property or normative characteristic to the action or state of affairs. Taking the apparent representational form of moral judgments as our lead, we might try to explain moral motivation by appealing to the nature of the properties that figure in our moral judgments. Perhaps we are reliably motivated by our moral judgments, at least when those judgments are roughly correct, because moral properties like rightness and goodness themselves motivate us, when we apprehend them.

J.L. Mackie (1977) famously criticizes this picture of moral properties in his extended argument against the objectivity of ethics. Mackie claims to find something like it in the work of a number of historical figures, including Kant and Sidgwick, but his clearest presentation of the picture comes in his remarks about Plato. Mackie writes: "In Plato's theory the Forms, and in particular the Form of the Good, are eternal, extra-mental, realities. They are a very central structural element in the fabric of the world. But it is held also that just knowing them or 'seeing' them will not merely tell men what to do but will ensure that they do it, overruling any contrary inclinations. The philosopher-kings in the Republic can, Plato thinks, be trusted with unchecked power because their education will have given them knowledge of the Forms. Being acquainted with the Forms of the Good and Justice and Beauty and the rest they will, by this knowledge alone, without any further motivation, be impelled to pursue and promote these ideals" (Mackie 1977, 23-24).

Certain features of Plato's picture of moral motivation-or at least Mackie's characterization of it-merit attention. First, as Mackie construes Plato's view, moral motivation springs directly and entirely from grasping the presence of the moral properties themselves. Apprehension of these properties move an agent to act, and to do so unaided by any additional source of motivation; their motivational power depends on no desire or disposition of the individual herself. Second, apprehension of moral properties not only motivates on its own: it provides overriding motivation. Once an agent does apprehends them, their motivating power overcomes any opposing desires or inclinations.

In maintaining, as he does, that Plato's theory of the Forms depicts what objective values would have to be like, Mackie, in effect, subscribes to (and attributes to Plato) a view called existence internalism. According to existence internalism, a necessary connection exists between having a certain normative status and motivation. A state of affairs couldn't be good, for example, unless apprehension of it was capable of motivating, though it need not motivate overridingly. If an individual apprehends something and fails to be moved, then ceteris paribus, it isn't good. As Mackie describes Plato's view, objective values provide overriding motivation, and so the view reflects a particularly strong form of existence internalism. According to that form of existence internalism, a state of affairs wouldn't be good or valuable unless apprehension of it would provide overriding motivation. The internalist character of Mackie's Platonic picture curiously aligns it with contemporary views that similarly accept forms of existence internalism, while holding that the capacity for motivation in fact depends on a preexisting desire. Consider a view about reasons associated most prominently with Bernard Williams (1981). According to what is called internalism about reasons or reasons internalism, necessarily, if an individual has a reason to do an action, he must be able to be motivated to do that action. On Williams' view, in order to be motivated, an individual must have some motivating attitude in her current "motivational set." Roughly speaking, then, if a consideration does not motivate a person given her current desires or motivational set, it cannot be a reason for her to act. Both the views of Williams and of Mackie's Plato posit a necessary connection between normative status and motivation, but the former view makes normative status depend, in a way the latter view would flatly reject, on an individual's subjective motives.

Mackie's discussion provides a first illustration of how accounts of moral motivation have been deployed to defend or rebut broader positions in metaethics. According to Mackie, the motivating power of objective values, if there were such values, would have to be just as Plato depicted it. "Plato's Forms give a dramatic picture of what objective values would have to be. The Form of the Good is such that knowledge of it provides the knower with both a direction and an overriding motive; something's being good both tells the person who knows this to pursue it and makes him pursue it. An objective good would be sought by anyone who was acquainted with it, not because of any contingent fact that this person, or every person, is so constituted that he desires this end, but just because the end has to-be-pursuedness somehow built into it" (Mackie 1977, 40). Mackie contends that the moral sentences we utter when we make moral judgments in fact express propositions about just such "objectively prescriptive" properties; as a result, our moral judgments can be true or false. So moral cognitivism-the view that moral judgments and beliefs, and the sentences that express them, can be true or false-provides the correct account of moral semantics, of what our moral judgments mean. Given that our moral discourse is cognitivist, it would seem to presume the correctness of moral realism, the view, roughly, that moral judgments and beliefs are truth evaluable, and some of them are literally true. But moral discourse suffers from what is called "presupposition failure," according to Mackie: moral discourse presupposes objectively prescriptive properties, but there aren't any; such properties would have to be "queer entities" unlike anything else in the world. Talk about morality is, Mackie evidently thinks, rather like talk about unicorns. Our "unicorn talk" expresses propositions (at least assuming it follows medieval legend) about horse-like creatures, tamable only by virgins, whose spiral horns possess magical powers. But there are no such creatures, and so our unicorn talk is systematically in error, though few of us any longer succumb to the error. In denying the existence of moral properties, Mackie rejects moral realism, combining a cognitivist moral semantics with an error theory. According to the error theory, "although most people in making moral judgments implicitly claim...to be pointing to something objectively prescriptive, these claims are all false" (Mackie 1977, 35).

Although contemporary philosophers have been divided with respect to Mackie's moral skepticism, they have mostly agreed in rejecting his extremely strong claims about what moral motivation, and the objective moral properties that figure in our moral judgments, would have to be like. They have uniformly rejected the suggestion that a grasp of morality's requirements would produce overriding motivation to act accordingly. And most have rejected efforts to explain moral motivation by appealing to a motivating power emanating from moral properties and the acts and states of affairs that instantiate them. One partial exception to this last claim may be worth noting. Christine Korsgaard (1996) has endorsed the idea of something like objectively prescriptive entities, though these entities are not, in her view, moral properties. Korsgaard shares Mackie's skepticism about objective values of the sort he describes as figuring in the moral realist views of philosophers like Plato. Nevertheless, she observes, Mackie is wrong and the realist is right with respect to whether any extant entities can meet the dual criteria of providing the agent who knows of them with "both a direction and a motive." It is, she insists, "the most familiar fact of human life that the world contains entities that can tell us what to do and make us do it. They are people, and the others animals" (Korsgaard 1996, 166). Most philosophers, even those sympathetic to Kant's moral philosophy and to Korsgaard's brand of Kantianism, find the idea that people (and non-human animals) have value and can in that regard "tell us what to do" and "make us do it" rather elusive. But Korsgaard's claims are part of a large, extremely rich picture of ethics that cannot be explored here, and a fair assessment of her claims would require attention to this larger picture. The important point, for present purposes, is that at least some philosophers, Korsgaard, and perhaps others drawn to ideas deriving from Kant's moral philosophy, retain some attraction to the idea that moral motivation and normativity find their source in inherently normative or "objectively prescriptive" entities.

Whether or not there are any properties or entities with anything like the powers Mackie describes, it is a mistake to suppose that moral realists and objectivists must be committed to their existence. No realist or objectivist need think that moral properties, or facts about their instantiation, will, when apprehended, be sufficient to motivate all persons regardless of their circumstances, including their cognitive and motivational makeup. And realists certainly need not take the view that Mackie ascribes to Plato, that seeing objective values will ensure that one acts, "overruling any contrary inclination" (Mackie 1977,23). An individual might grasp a moral fact, for example, but suffer from temporary irrationality or weakness of will; she might be free of such temporary defects but possess a more indelible motivational makeup that impedes or defeats the motivating power of moral facts. Any plausible account of moral motivation will, and must, acknowledge these sources of motivational failure; and any plausible analysis of moral properties must allow for them. Even those realists or objectivists who maintain that all rational and motivationally unimpaired persons will be moved by moral facts need not think they will be overridingly indefeasibly motivated. As already noted, regardless of their views with respect to broader metaethical questions, contemporary philosophers do not take any position on the precise strength of moral motivation-with the qualification (alluded to earlier) that they reject, apparently universally, the idea that moral motivation is ordinarily overriding.

Philosophers have most often attempted to explain moral motivation not by appealing to the special powers of moral properties but by appealing to the nature of moral judgments. Perhaps moral judgments are such that no person could sincerely judge an act morally right or a state of affairs good, while remaining wholly unmoved. Efforts to understand moral motivation in terms of motivation by moral judgments must confront two central questions. First, what is the nature of the connection between moral judgment and motivation-do moral judgments motivate necessarily or do they motivate only contingently? Second, can moral judgments motivate on their own or can they motivate only by the intermediation of a desire or other conative state? Of course, philosophers have answered these questions in varying ways.

Let's consider the second question first. Now one way in which moral judgments could motivate, and, indeed, motivate on their own, would be if moral judgments were not representational after all. Suppose moral judgments did not ascribe properties and express moral beliefs about what things have those properties. Suppose instead, as moral noncognitivism maintains, that moral judgments express desires or other conative states-what philosophers sometimes call "pro-attitudes." Then it would be clear how moral judgments connect to motivation. They simply express a motivating state that the individual already has; to make a (sincere) moral judgment is already to be motivated, at least to some degree. The real puzzle as to how moral judgments can motivate arises for those who maintain that moral judgments express moral beliefs, for the connection between belief, a cognitive state, and motivation is uncertain.

How philosophers resolve the puzzle turns on a central issue in moral psychology, namely, whether what is called the Humean theory of motivation is true. According to the Humean view, belief is insufficient for motivation, which always requires, in addition to belief, the presence of a desire or conative state. Moral motivation thus cannot arise from moral belief alone but must depend as well upon a preexisting desire or other conative or intrinsically motivating state. It would perhaps be fair to say that Humeanism continues to be the dominant view. It has been held both by some who accept and by some who reject cognitivism and moral realism, so it has not alone been considered decisive in settling broader issues in metaethics. The view has been held by noncognitivist anti-realists, for example, but also by moral realists like Michael Smith (1994) and Peter Railton (1986a). A number of prominent philosophers, including Thomas Nagel (1970), John McDowell (1979), Mark Platts (1980), David McNaughton (1988), Jonathan Dancy (1993), Thomas Scanlon (1998), and Russ Shafer-Landau (2003), have rejected the Humean picture, however, arguing that, in fact, moral motivation does not depend on the existence of desire: moral belief can itself give rise to motivation.

Precisely how and under what conditions moral belief can itself motivate is a matter of dispute among anti-Humeans. Some hold that moral belief is sufficient to motivate directly. Merely believing that it is right, say, to keep a promise will move the believer, at least to some degree, to act so as to keep the promise. Others hold that moral beliefs produce desires, which then motivate in conjunction with the moral beliefs that produced them. Believing that it is right to keep a promise produces a desire to do so, and these cognitive and conative states jointly move the believer, at least to some degree, to act so as to keep the promise. Certain virtue theorists offer a quite refined version of the latter idea, arguing that only a particular type of moral belief-one tied to an ideal or complete conception of a situation in light of a more expansive understanding of how to live-necessarily generates in an individual the motivation to do as a moral belief of that type indicates she ought (Little 1997; McDowell 1978). The virtuous person has not mere moral beliefs but a complex of moral belief and outlook which will reliably move her to behave morally. Proponents of various anti-Humean views readily acknowledge that persons often fail to be moved and to act as they believe they ought. According to any of these views, however, a failure of motivation springs from a cognitive failure.

As already noted, many have found the basic Humean picture most plausible. Before examining a few of the considerations thought to favor it, we should make note of the fact that Humeanism does not itself commit one to any particular view as to the sorts of desires responsible for moral motivation. A Humean might well take the view that no particular desire is implicated in moral motivation. On the contrary, varying desires may, when contingently present, move an individual to do what she judges she ought to do, including the desire to be well regarded by her neighbors, to advance her interests in some way, or to promote the welfare of those who matter to her. Appealing simply to some contingent desire or other may be inadequate, however, to explain the basic phenomenon of moral motivation. After all, what needs to be explained, many would argue, is not merely how we may, on occasion or even frequently, be motivated to do as we think we ought: what needs to be explained is how we are reliably motivated to do as we think we ought. That includes explaining why motivation reliably shifts so as to track changes in our moral beliefs. As we will see, those who accept the Humean picture have sometimes suggested that we look to quite particular desires or to deep features of human psychology to explain moral motivation.

One argument in favor of the Humean picture alleges that if beliefs were sufficient to motivate, then we would expect people with the same beliefs to be motivated in the same way. In fact, however, whereas some people are motivated by their moral belief, say, that contributing to famine relief is a duty, to write a check to Oxfam, others feel no such inclination whatsoever. But anti-Humeans claim that they can explain away these differences by showing either that differential motivation is in fact due to other differences in belief or to motives that compete with and override the desires generated by moral beliefs (Shafer-Landau 2003, 129-130).

A second argument in favor of Humeanism appeals to the view about reasons associated with Williams (1981), briefly discussed earlier. Recall that according to internalism about reasons or reasons internalism, it is necessarily the case that if an individual has a reason to do an action, then he must be able to be motivated to do that action. On a more specific version of the view, an individual has a reason to do an action only if he has a desire to perform that action or to achieve some end that requires doing that action. If internalism about reasons is correct, then when an individual correctly judges himself to have a reason to perform an action, he must already have a preexisting desire. Anti-Humeans sometimes reject reasons internalism, as well as the Humean theory of motivation. But even allowing that reasons internalism is correct, they believe this second argument fails to undermine their position. For it seems possible that not all of our moral judgments involve the judgment (correct or otherwise) that we have a reason for action. An individual could, for example, judge that it would be right to fulfill a promise without judging that she has a reason to do anything. What might explain this? Perhaps, for instance, she fails to reflect on the connection between what it is right to do and what one has reason to do; or perhaps she mistakenly believes that truths about morally right action do not entail truths about what one has reason to do. If an individual can judge an action right without judging that she has a reason to perform the action, then even if an action's being right entails a reason for action and reasons entail desires, moral beliefs need not involve preexisting desires (Shafer-Landau 2003, 128-129).

Perhaps the most sophisticated argument in favor of the Humean theory of motivation appeals to considerations in the philosophy of mind and moral psychology, specifically, to fundamental differences between belief and desire that would seem to count against anti-Humeanism. Belief and desire, as a conceptual matter, it is argued, differ in what has been called their "direction of fit" (Anscombe 1963). They differ in such a way, it would seem, that belief states cannot entail desire states. Whereas beliefs aim to fit the world, desires aim to change the world. That is to say, whereas beliefs have a "mind-to-world" direction of fit, desires have a "world-to-mind" direction of fit. For a mental state to count as a belief, it must be at least somewhat responsive to evidence that bears on the truth or falsity of its propositional content; that the facts are contrary to a belief counts against it. In contrast, facts contrary to the propositional content of a desire-the fact that the world is not currently as one wants-need not count against that desire. Precisely because desires aim not to answer to the world but to make the world answer to them (to make the world fit their propositional contents or what the desires are desires for), they may well persist even when the world refuses to cooperate. Assuming the foregoing claims about belief and desire are true, so the argument goes, at least some versions of anti-Humeanism would require what is incoherent, namely, mental states with incompatible directions of fit: mental states that could be at once representational in the way that beliefs are and motivational in the way that desires are. But anti-Humeans would argue that their picture of moral motivation via moral belief need involve no incoherence. To see this, we need merely consider the possibility that a mental state could have opposing directions of fit so long as in exhibiting each direction of fit, the mental state was directed at different propositions: the virtuous agent "believes" (belief direction of fit), say, that a state of affairs S ought to be promoted and "desires" (desire direction of fit) that S be brought about (Little 1997, 64).

Anti-Humeans have offered various considerations-some positive, others negative-to support their rejection of Humeanism. On the negative side, they attempt to defeat considerations thought to favor the Humean theory, as we have already seen in the course of exploring some of those considerations. On the positive side, Anti-Humeans sometimes appeal to the phenomenology of moral motivation, arguing that it supports their view. Ask the agent who is sorely tempted to do otherwise why he ultimately acted as he believed morality required and he will not report his desires at the moment of action; rather, he will explain that he believed the action was the right thing to do (Shafer-Landau 2003, 123). Our own experience and that of others tells us that although our actions often arise from our desires, sometimes they arise instead from our evaluative beliefs. As further support for these claims about the phenomenology of moral motivation, Shafer-Landau has appealed to nonmoral cases in which motivation seems to follow from belief. Consider the individual who convinces herself that she has a desire she in fact lacks, such as the desire to become a lawyer. She enrolls in law school only to find herself unmotivated by her coursework and dropping out of school, after a summer spent working as a carpenter reveals her love of carpentry (Shafer-Landau 2003, 125). What most plausibly explains the individual's enrollment in law school and her half-hearted efforts during that first year would seem to be her mistaken belief that she desired to become a lawyer. Given that many of our choices will involve subjecting ourselves to tedious, even painful, experiences-experiences that surely none of us desire for their own sake-the Humean owes us some explanation of our willingness to persist in such choices. The Humean will, it seems, be forced to appeal to some further desire we thereby seek to satisfy, such as, in the case of the law school drop-out, the desire to become a lawyer. But such an explanation will be implausible in cases in which we are mistaken about our desires. No compelling reason can be given to accept a desire-based explanation of our actions, Shafer-Landau argues, over the more straightforward explanation in terms of our beliefs.

Yet Humeans would insist that there is nothing straightforward about attempts to explain moral motivation and action in terms of beliefs; just recall the argument for Humeanism based on differences in "direction of fit" between belief and desire. Leaving that argument to one side, however, neither the phenomenology of moral motivation nor cases in which individuals are mistaken about their desires support the anti-Humean view. The fact that an individual may cite a belief rather than a desire in explaining why she did what she judged to be right does nothing to show either that her moral belief directly moved her to act or that it generated a desire that moved her to act. Individual self-reports are notoriously unreliable and can hardly settle so fundamental a question about moral psychology. As for cases in which individuals are (allegedly) mistaken about their desires, common sense suggests that the Humean has the more straightforward explanation. The Humean might argue that the law school drop-out in fact did desire to become a lawyer, or at least to enroll in law school; she simply didn't understand what studying law would be like. Once she experienced it, she lost her desire to continue her studies. Alternatively, perhaps she really didn't desire to become a lawyer, though she told herself that she did. Still, she was moved to enter law school not by her bare belief, but by a more deep seated, perhaps not fully conscious desire, such as the desire to please her parents or to have the prestige or pay that comes with being a lawyer. Anti-Humeans have given us no reason to favor their explanation over the Humean alternatives. Of course, anti-Humeans need not think the phenomenology, as they suppose it to be, settles the dispute, but Humeans will insist that it does not even tend to favor the anti-Humean position.

The foregoing discussion does not, of course, cover every argument that has been offered in the longstanding debate between Humeans and anti-Humeans, just a few of the ones that philosophers have evidently found most persuasive. Whether and how the debate might be resolved remains uncertain, in part, because the nature of the dispute is rather unclear. Is it at bottom a conceptual dispute to be resolved, for instance, by analysis of the concepts of belief and desire? Perhaps, though arguments that appeal to considerations in the philosophy of mind and moral psychology have thus far proved less than fully convincing. Is the dispute instead fundamentally empirical? The tendency to appeal to common sense and the phenomenology of moral action would seem to betray some temptation to treat the issue as at least partly empirical, though perhaps these appeals are meant to serve merely as a check on conceptual claims. Appeals to our experience can, in any case, be just as well, and just as inconclusively, invoked by those on either side of the debate. In the context of warding off criticisms of the view that virtue is knowledge, Little (1997) suggests that the dispute is fundamentally theoretical, implicating large and complex questions about the nature of agency, normativity, and responsibility. Whether or not that is so, Little may be right in suggesting that the dispute will not be resolvable by appeal to merely local arguments of the sort we have considered. How plausible one finds either side may turn, in the end, on the plausibility of the larger theories in which these views respectively figure.

Whatever one might conclude as to whether moral judgments or beliefs motivate on their own or only by means of some preexisting conative state, a question remains as to the precise nature of the connection between moral judgment and motivation. Do moral judgments motivate necessarily or do they motivate only contingently? If the latter, then how are we to explain why the contingent connection between moral judgment and motivation is as strong and reliable as it appears to be?

The main division of opinion regarding the nature of the connection between moral judgment and motivation is between those philosophers who accept and those who reject a thesis known as motivational judgment internalism. This thesis is a form of judgment internalism. Traditionally, judgment internalism has been characterized as claiming either that motivation is internal to moral judgment, in the sense that moral judgment itself motivates without need of an accompanying desire ("strong internalism") or that there is a necessary connection between moral judgment and motivation ("weak internalism"). As currently characterized in the literature, judgment internalism makes the conceptual claim that a necessary connection exists between sincere moral judgment and either justifying reasons or motives: necessarily, if an individual sincerely judges that she ought to φ, then she has a reason or motive to φ. Judgment internalism must be distinguished from the thesis of existence internalism, which we considered earlier. Recall that according to existence internalism, a necessary connection exists between having a certain normative status and motivation. A consideration can be a reason or be right-making, for example, only if it is capable of motivating. Whereas judgment internalism states a necessary condition on being a judgment of a certain kind, existence internalism states a necessary condition on being an act or state or consideration of a certain normative kind.

Motivational judgment internalism, hereafter "internalism," holds that a person cannot sincerely make a moral judgment without being motivated at least to some degree to abide by her judgment. Internalism can assume weaker or stronger forms. On Mackie's account of Plato, is it the view that necessarily a person who makes a sincere moral judgment will be overridingly motivated to comply with her judgment. Thus, what objective moral properties must be like involves a rather extreme form of existence internalism, which would be allied with a rather extreme form of judgment internalism. Contemporary moral philosophers have been no more attracted to so strong a claim when moral motivation is tied to moral judgment than they have been when moral motivation is tied to moral properties. Instead, they have accepted weaker forms of internalism, which allow that even though, necessarily, the person who makes a sincere moral judgment will feel some motivation to comply with it, that motivation can be overridden by conflicting desires and defeated by a variety of mental maladies, such as depression and weakness of will (Svavarsdottir 1999, sec.1).

As should already be evident, those who accept one or another form of motivational judgment internalism have a ready explanation of the reliability of moral motivation, including the reliability of motivational shifting so as to track changes in moral judgment. Indeed, one argument offered in favor of internalism is that only if we accept it can we plausibly explain why changes in moral motivation reliably follow upon changes in moral judgment (Smith 1994, 71-76). Suppose Jones and Thomson are debating the moral permissibility of abortion. Jones is inclined to believe that abortion is morally wrong. She has been known to join the protest line outside of a local abortion clinic and to try to dissuade women from having abortions. Thomson, in contrast, believes that abortion is morally permissible. Suppose that after extensive discussion, Thomson convinces Jones that the more plausible arguments support the permissibility of abortion. What would people reasonably predict in terms of Jones's future conduct? They would reasonably predict, among other things, that she would no longer be inclined to join the protest line and that she would desist from her efforts to discourage other women from having abortions. But that prediction rests precisely on the expectation that, at least insofar as Jones is a good and strong-willed person-not depressed or apathetic or suffering from weakness of will-what she is motivated to do will have been altered in response to the change in her moral judgment, which is just what internalism would lead us to expect. If internalism is true, then, we can readily account for motivational changes. The reliable connection between moral judgment and motivation is, ultimately, best explained internally as due to the very content or nature of moral judgment itself (Smith 1994, 72). Those who accept internalism will, of course, ultimately owe us an account of the nature of moral judgments that explains and captures the necessary connection that supposedly exists between moral judgment and motivation.

The thesis that directly opposes motivational judgment internalism, motivational externalism, or just externalism, denies that it is a conceptual platitude that necessarily moral judgments motivate. According to externalism, any connection that exists between moral judgment and motivation is purely contingent, though it may turn out to rest on deep features of human nature. Moral motivation occurs when a moral judgment combines with a desire, and the content of the judgment is related to the content of the desire so as to rationalize the action. The foregoing argument in favor of internalism in effect denies that externalism can adequately explain the basic phenomenon of moral motivation and, in particular, the seemingly reliable shifting of moral motivation to match changes in moral judgment. But why think externalism will be explanatorily inadequate? Once we have the internalist thesis about the necessary connection between moral judgment and motivation, it seems we have, as it were, the whole story: if an individual makes a moral judgment, she is, ceteris paribus, motivated; if she is not motivated, she was not making a sincere and competent moral judgment at all, appearances to the contrary notwithstanding. Because the externalist denies the existence of a necessary connection between moral judgment and motivation, the externalist thesis leaves us in need of an independent explanation of moral motivation. The internalist maintains that any such explanation will fall short-call this the "internist challenge" to externalism.

According to one important version of the internalist challenge, offered by Michael Smith, the externalist would have to explain the connection between moral judgment and motivation externally as due not to the content of moral judgments but, rather, the "content of the motivational dispositions possessed by the good and strong-willed person" (Smith 1994, 72). But this allegedly commits the externalist to an unacceptable picture of moral motivation. The internalist will say that an agent who is moved to do the right thing is moved to do the very thing that is given by the content of her moral judgment; she is motivated to do the very thing she judges to be right (73). The person who judges it right to perform an act that advances another's welfare, for example, acquires and is moved by a non-derivative desire or concern to advance his welfare. In contrast, the externalist must say that an agent is moved to do what she judges right due to the content of the motivational dispositions that she has in being a good person. The question then is what those dispositions might be. Recall that when a person's judgment changes, her motivation tends to change. If such motivational shifting is to be explained in terms of the motivational dispositions of the good person, rather than in terms of the content of her moral judgments, then the only disposition that could do the explaining would be the motivation to do the right thing, whatever it happens to be (75). According to Smith, such a view implausibly treats moral motivation as derivative; it derives from the desire to do the right thing together with a person's current moral judgment about the right thing to do. A person desires to promote another's good, not non-derivatively because she judges it right to promote his good and so desires to do just that, but because she desires to do what is right, and that just happens to be promoting his good. But the good person, Smith claims, cares non-derivatively about justice, equality, and the welfare of loved ones. To care non-derivatively only about doing what one believes right, to be motivated in that way, and not by these other things, is "a fetish or moral vice" (75). Smith suggests that in taking the good person to be motivated to do what she believes morally right, whatever that might be, the externalist picture "alienates her from the ends at which morality properly aims" (76).

Externalists have responded to this challenge by pointing out that the fact that a good person is motivated to do what she thinks right does not preclude her from also being motivated non-derivately by direct concern, for example, for the welfare of loved ones. They have also argued that there is nothing fetishistic in supposing that the good person is motivationally disposed to do the right thing and that, in any case, alternative externalist explanations of a reliable connection between moral judgment and motivation are available (Copp 1997, 49-50). An individual could, for example, simply be disposed to desire immediately to do whatever she believes it right to do or whatever she judges to be valuable, rather than being disposed to do the right thing, whatever it turns out to be (Copp 1997, 50-51). Sigrun Svavarsdottir (1999) has argued that Smith is mistaken when he claims that the externalist's only option for explaining motivational shifting is to appeal to a desire to do the right thing, but she thinks that something close to the view Smith rejects provides just the right externalist picture of moral motivation. We should, on her view, understand the good person as concerned with doing what is morally valuable or required, where that concern should be understood to encompass what is honest, fair, kind, considerate, just, and so on. The fact that the good person is so motivationally disposed does not mean, as Smith seems to suggest, that she cares only about one thing, namely, doing what she believes is right. Nor does it mean that she undertakes an act conceiving of it simply as the right thing to do. On the contrary, it is compatible with the externalist picture that the good person will often simply respond directly to another's need for comfort or relief. Moreover, an externalist view that conceives of the good person as motivated by the desire to be moral does not involve introducing an alien (or alienating) thought-"it's the right thing to do"- into her consciousness in order to explain moral motivation. Rather, having formed the moral judgment that she ought to φ, the desire to be moral plays, in the good person, a role in effecting the "psychological transition" from judging it right to φ to wanting to φ (Svavarsdottir 1999, 201). Finally, Svavarsdottir argues that although a desire to do the morally right action, say, aid another in need, may derive at first from a desire to be moral, it may come to operate independently of the latter desire, so that her desire to aid is not simply an instrumental desire (Svavarsdottir 1999, 205-206, 213-214).

Indeed, the point on which externalists want to insist is that some conative state must be at work in the movement from judging it right to φ to wanting or being moved to φ. After all, the externalist will remind us, this movement does not occur in all moral agents; some of them will judge it right to φ without being moved to φ. Externalists typically take it as a point of common sense observation that wide variation exists in the impact moral judgments have on people's feelings, deliberations, and actions (Svavarsdottir 1999, 161).

Debates between internalists and externalists often center on the figure of the "amoralist"-the person who apparently makes moral judgments, while remaining wholly unmoved to comply with them. Various efforts have been made to respond to the problem of the amoralist, and these efforts have led to the development of numerous versions of motivational judgment internalism. Generally, internalists have insisted that the amoralist is a conceptual impossibility. The standard strategy internalists employ to cope with the hypothetical amoralist is to identify a content for moral judgments which would have the result that no agent (or no rational agent, anyway) could employ moral concepts competently and make a sincere moral judgment, while remaining unmoved. Internalists allow that moral motivation need not be overriding; competing desires may be stronger and so may win out. They allow, too, that moral motivation is defeasible; a person may judge it right to φ, while failing to be moved to φ, due to depression or weakness of will. Cases of irrationality aside, however, the person who appears to be making a moral judgment, while remaining unmoved, must really either lack competence with moral concepts or be speaking insincerely. In the latter case, she judges an act "right" only in an "inverted commas" sense (R. M Hare, 1963), as when the unrepentant criminal, seeking a lesser sentence, tells the judge, in a remorseful tone, that he knows what he did was "wrong".

Externalists, of course, maintain that the amoralist is not a conceptual impossibility. After all, if we can conceive of amoralists, as we surely can, then they are not conceptually impossible (Shafer-Landau 2003, 146). Contrary to what internalists claim, individuals can sincerely and competently apply moral concepts without being motivated in any specific way. While some amoralists may use moral terms only in an inverted commas sense, not all cases of motivational failure can be explained away as cases of irrationality, conceptual incompetence, or insincerity.

At this point in the dialectic, internalists and externalists tend to produce additional arguments in an effort to overcome what seems an impasse. Externalists, for example, may invite us to consider cases in which a person judges it right to φ, while believing it would in fact be impossible to succeed in doing φ, or cases in which she thinks doing φ would markedly interfere with her welfare or would prevent her from obtaining something she dearly desires. Doesn't it seem plausible that in such cases a person could judge it right to φ, while failing to be moved to φ? More generally, externalists argue that internalists cannot make sense of morality's historical challenger-the skeptic who asks, "Why be moral?" Externalists may also offer arguments aimed at shifting the burden on to the internalist to establish that internalism is a conceptual platitude (Svavarsdottir 1999, 2006).

In order more fully to address the variety of cases in which the connection between moral judgment and motivation fails, internalists have offered more qualified versions of internalism. These more qualified versions of internalism maintain that the necessary connection between moral judgment and motivation holds only under certain conditions. As for what these conditions are, a variety of views have been advanced. For example, Smith (1994) has advanced a version of internalism, or what he calls the "practicality requirement," maintaining that a necessary connection holds between moral judgment and motivation, at least in the "good and strong-willed person." The connection between moral judgment and motivation holds, he claims, in the person who is "practically rational." Others have suggested that it holds in the person who is "psychologically normal" (Dreier 1990) or in the person who is "morally perceptive" (Bjorklund et al. 2012: 126-128).

But problems remain. What about the person who made a certain moral judgment in the past and had always been moved to act in accordance with that judgment but who ceases to be motivated, while continuing to make the judgment? Perhaps she judges that she morally ought to work actively to aid the sick and poor. After 20 years of doing so, she concludes that she has done enough and ceases to be motivated to act on her judgment, yet she continues to judge that she morally ought to work actively to aid the sick and poor. Doesn't it seem plausible that she is competent with the moral concepts, that she speaks sincerely, that she uses moral terms in their ordinary sense, rather than an "inverted commas" sense? Yet she need not be apathetic or depressed or otherwise mentally ill.

Cases like these have led some to move away from the idea that the necessary connection between moral judgment and motivation holds with respect to each individual moral judgment. Those who advance forms of what Bjorklund et al. (2012) (see also Bjornsson et al. 2015) call "deferred internalism" hold that the necessary connection between moral judgment and motivation can be more attenuated.

Deferred internalism:
Necessarily if a person judges that she morally ought to φ, then she is either (at least somewhat) motivated to φ or some relevantly connected moral judgments are accompanied by motivation. (Bjorklund et al. 2012: 128)

So, in the example above, our aid worker who has ceased to be motivated but still judges that she morally ought to φ had some relevantly connected moral judgments that were accompanied by motivation, namely, her own past judgments. Others maintain that the amoralist is only intelligible relative to conditions in which moral motivation ordinarily holds, and this has led some to find the relevantly connected moral judgments in an agent's community. Tresan (2009a and 2009b), for example, considers the possibility of a "communal" version of deferred internalism, which counts an individual's beliefs as moral only when, in the believer's community, beliefs with that content are motivating. (And see Blackburn 2001, 63.)

As versions of internalism become increasingly qualified, one might be inclined to wonder whether there is much distinction any longer between internalism and externalism. One might be inclined to wonder whether either has the edge in explaining the reliability of moral motivation. And if that is the case, one might be attracted to what seems to be the simpler story the externalist has to tell about the connection between moral judgment and motivation.

Externalists maintain that they can fully and adequately account for the strong but ultimately contingent connection between moral judgment and motivation, offering various explanations of how moral judgments reliably motivate. As we have seen, Svavarsdottir seeks to explain moral motivation by appealing to a particular conative state, namely, the desire to do what is morally valuable or required-the desire, in short to be moral. Peter Railton appeals to the concern people generally have to be able to justify their choices and conduct from a more impartial standpoint. But he also apparently thinks that people's more ordinary motives play a part; at least this is suggested when he remarks that, if we really want people to take morality seriously, "we should ask how we might change the ways we live so that moral conduct would more regularly be rational given the ends we actually have" (Railton 1986a, 203). According to David Brink, externalism makes the motivational force of our moral judgments "a matter of contingent psychological fact, depending on both the content of people's moral views and their attitudes and desires" (Brink 1989, 49). Still, these attitudes and desires may be widely shared and rooted in central features of human nature. Suppose, as the philosopher David Hume maintained, that sympathy is a deep and widely shared feature of human psychology. Then, Brink observes, while it may be a contingent fact that most people will have some desire to comply with what they believe morality requires, it will also be a deep fact about them. "Moral motivation, on such a view, can be widespread and predictable, even if it is neither necessary, nor universal, nor overriding" (Brink 1989, 49; Boyd 1998, sec. 4.7).

Philosophers who endorse externalism commonly also endorse Humeanism, though it is important to remember that many internalists, including most noncognitivists and expressivists about moral judgment, also accept the Humean theory of motivation. Indeed, some contend that the basic observation that supports externalism also lends support to the Humean theory: wide variation in the motivational impact of moral judgments suggests not only that they motivate contingently but that they do so via some conative state. Still, externalists need not be Humeans. Shafer-Landau, who rejects both Humeanism and internalism, holds that moral beliefs are indeed intrinsically motivating-they can motivate by themselves. But contra internalism, they are not necessarily motivating. Intrinsically motivating beliefs may fail to motivate under conditions of extreme exhaustion, serious depression, or overwhelming contrary impulses (Shafer-Landau 2003, 147-148). The fact that Shafer-Landau treats the defeasibility of moral motivation under such conditions as supporting a form of externalism, whereas Smith treats defeasibility under like conditions as compatible with a form of internalism, suggests some disagreement among philosophers as to precisely when a view should be classified as a form of internalism or externalism.

Philosophical thinking about the phenomenon of moral motivation has long overlapped with and influenced ongoing efforts to address foundational questions in ethics. Of special importance has been the use of ideas concerning the nature of moral motivation to support anti-realism in ethics-the view that contrary to the claims of moral realists, there are no moral facts, no truths about what morality requires, forbids, or permits, except, perhaps, in some minimalist sense. We have already seen one example of how ideas about moral motivation might bear on broader metaethical views in Mackie's critique of ethical objectivism. As noted earlier, Mackie defends cognitivist anti-realism, a form of anti-realism that couples cognitivism with an error theory. According to cognitivist anti-realism, although ethical sentences express propositions about objectively prescriptive properties-ones with "to-be-pursuedness" built in-no such properties exist; and due to this presupposition failure, we are systematically in error in our moral judgments.

The development of metaethical theories over roughly the past eighty some years has perhaps been shaped most profoundly by the use of certain theses about moral motivation to support noncognitivist anti-realism. Noncognitivist anti-realism, like cognitivist anti-realism, rejects the existence of robust moral properties and moral facts. But unlike the latter view, it rejects cognitivism in favor of noncognitivism, which as traditionally depicted is the view that moral judgments express attitudes rather than beliefs or propositions, and that, consequently, they are not truth evaluable.

Shafer-Landau (2003) offers a formulation of what he calls the Non-cognitivist Argument, which helpfully makes explicit how theses that have figured in efforts to understand moral motivation have been employed to support noncognitivist anti-realism:

Necessarily, if one sincerely judges an action right, then one is motivated to some extent to act in accordance with that judgment. (Motivational Judgment Internalism)

When taken by themselves, beliefs neither motivate nor generate any motivationally efficacious states. (Motivational Humeanism)

Therefore, moral judgments are not beliefs. (Moral Non-cognitivism)

Since moral realism incorporates the cognitivist claim that moral judgments are beliefs, the conclusion of the Non-cognitivist Argument entails that moral realism is false.

Contemporary philosophers who have sought to defend versions of moral realism or objectivism have had to come to grips with this basic line of argument, even if they have not always engaged with it explicitly. The Non-cognitivist Argument therefore provides us with a useful tool for mapping out competing positions in metaethics. We can categorize philosophers' positions negatively in terms of which premises of the noncognitivist argument they accept or reject. Some have rejected premise 1, often going on to defend forms of naturalist moral realism that embrace externalism (e.g. Railton 1986; Boyd 1988; Brink 1989). According to the latter views, moral properties are a kind of natural property and moral facts are natural facts. Judgments about these facts express propositions, and so they can be true or false, but these judgment do not necessarily motivate. Whether our moral judgments motivate us is fixed by contingent facts about our psychologies and our substantive moral beliefs. Some have rejected premise 2 (McDowell 1978, 1979), and some of those who have rejected premise 2 have aligned themselves with versions of moral constructivism or rationalism (e.g. Darwall 1983; Scanlon 1998). The latter views take widely varying forms, but they generally see moral principles as requirements of rationality or reason, or as the output of a hypothetical agreement among reasonable, suitably situated persons. Moral reasons are considerations that are motivating, at least when we properly reflect on them, but their motivating force does not depend on a prior desire. Some have rejected both premises 1 and 2, defending forms of nonnaturalist moral realism (Shafer-Landau 2003). Moral properties, on this view, are not identical with natural or descriptive properties, although they may be wholly constituted by them. Moral judgments are intrinsically motivating-they can motivate in the absence of a preexisting desire, but they are not necessarily motivating. Finally, some have accepted both premises 1 and 2, at least appropriately refined, arguing that we can see them both to be compatible with moral cognitivism, and further, with moral realism (Smith 1994). For example, Smith understands the subject matter of judgments about right action as being normative reasons for action. According to him, normative reasons are given by facts about what we would, suitably idealized, want ourselves to desire; and the existence of such facts means that some desires are rationally required. If we believe ourselves to have a normative reason to φ, then rationally we ought to φ, and in judging that we have normative reason to φ, we will necessarily, insofar as we are rational, be moved to φ. The concept of rightness is the concept of what we would, were we fully rational, desire ourselves to desire in our actual world. When we believe it would be right to φ, then, we will, insofar as we are rational, be motivated to φ.

More recently, some (e.g. Tresan 2006, 2009a, 2009b) have argued that when understood as what Bjorklund et al. (2012) call "non-constitutional," motivational judgment internalism is compatible not only with Smithian rationalism, but with a wide variety of cognitivist metaethical theories. "Non-constitutional internalism" (or what Tresan calls "SM internalism") is the view that according to our concept of a moral belief, a mental state counts as a moral belief only if it is accompanied by motivation. Necessarily, if p is a moral belief, then p is accompanied by motivation. According to Tresan, once we recognize this form of internalism, we see that it is compatible with almost any version of cognitivism, and so with a range of metaethical views, including forms of ethical naturalism (2006: 68). This contrasts with attempts to combine internalism and cognitivism on the grounds that the nature of moral belief is such as to guarantee motivation (at least under certain conditions) either because of the content of moral beliefs (Smith 1994) or because moral beliefs are themselves intrinsically motivating states (Dancy 1993). (See Bjorklund et al. 2011).

Work in experimental psychology may also shape how we understand and answer our questions about moral motivation. A number of philosophers have recently brought work in psychology to bear on questions in metaethics and on the question of moral motivation in particular. Such work has been argued to have implications for the nature of motivation generally, for the debate between motivational internalists and externalists, and for the plausibility of various philosophical accounts of the nature of moral motivation.

Schroeder et al. sketch what they describe as caricatures of four possible theories of moral motivation, which they label instrumentalist, cognitivist, sentimentalist, and personalist, and argue that "theories of morally worthy motivation that best fit the current scientific picture are ones that owe much more to Hume or Aristotle than to Kant" (72). According to the instrumentalist, "people are motivated when they form beliefs about how to satisfy preexisting [intrinsic] desires" (74), which lead in turn to the formation of nonintrinsic desires to take specific actions aimed at satisfying their intrinsic desires. When a person has an intrinsic desire, D, and comes to believe that φ-ing will satisfy D, she comes to desire (nonintrinsically) to φ. On the instrumentalist view, commonly called "Humean," the specifically moral character of motivation comes from an intrinsic desire to do what one judges to be right. In contrast to the instrumentalist, the cognitivist holds that moral motivation begins, not with desires, but with beliefs about which actions are right. Such beliefs motivate independently of preexisting intrinsic desires. Morally worthy action arises not from desires, at least not in the first instance, but from moral judgments (76). The sentimentalist sees the emotions as playing a central role in moral motivation, and for an action to be the result of moral motivation, certain emotions must cause that action. The right kind of emotions are things like compassion or sympathy (77). Finally, the personalist sees the source of moral motivation in morally good character, more specifically, in the virtues. "Good character involves knowledge of the good, wanting what is good for its own sake, long-standing emotional dispositions that favor good action, and long-standing habits of responding to one's knowledge, desires and emotions with good actions" (77). Moral action begins when a person's sensitivity to moral patterns and moral heuristics (such as that lying tends to be bad) leads her to judge that an action would be good, which engages her long-standing emotional dispositions and habits, thereby resulting in moral motivation.

According to Schroeder et al., each of these views "presuppose commitments regarding the nature of psychological states such as beliefs, desires, choices, emotions, and so on, together with commitments regarding the functional and causal roles they play" (79). Because these commitments are not only philosophical but also empirical, they go on to summarize the empirical work-"textbook neuroscience"-on the neurophysiology of motivation and to assess the implications of the science for these four philosophical views about moral motivation.

The instrumentalist view, they argue, fares well given the neuroscience, as does the personalist account. In contrast, the cognitivist account of moral motivation runs into trouble "since our moral behavior does not appear to be under the control of cognitive states alone independently of desire" (106). The sentimentalist's view likewise runs into difficulty "because the emotional system, while closely linked to the system underlying voluntary action, will turn out to be nonetheless distinct from it unless emotions are themselves built in part from desires" (106). Schroeder et al. acknowledge that our current understanding of the neuroscience is incomplete and that responses can be offered to the criticisms that they make (106). Nevertheless, they suggest that attention to the neuroscience "could serve to constrain future theorizing about the structure of moral agency..." (107).

Roskies (2003) attempts to draw conclusions about a particular kind of internalism about moral motivation by focusing on empirical evidence drawn from patients with damage to the ventromedial (VM) cortex. More precisely, she argues against the view that moral belief entails moral motivation, a view she calls "motive-internalism", which is the view called "strong internalism" in section 3.2 As she describes it, motive-internalism is the view that "motivation is intrinsic to, or a necessary component of moral belief or judgment" (52). The person who sincerely believes that she ought to F is thereby motivated, to some degree, to F. The externalist holds, in contrast, that moral belief does not entail moral motivation; a person can believe that she ought to F, while lacking any motivation to F. Roskies explains that the internalist claim involves necessity, intrinsicness, and specificity. According to the motive-internalist, it is a necessary truth that motivation accompanies moral belief or judgment, and so it is true "of any agent capable of moral beliefs" (52). The intrinsicness of motive-internalism consists in the idea that the connection between moral belief or judgment and motivation holds because of the content of the moral belief, rather than because of something unrelated to the content of that belief. As for specificity, motive-internalism sees moral beliefs as different from other kinds of beliefs, which are not intrinsically motivating (52).

According to Roskies, the "motive-internalist" faces a dilemma: either her internalist thesis is too weak and so is philosophically uninteresting, or it is strong enough to be philosophically interesting but also "demonstrably false" (51). On the first horn of the dilemma, the internalist thesis is too weak and so is philosophically uninteresting. Roskies illustrates this horn of the dilemma with Smith's view that there is a necessary connection between moral judgment and motivation, except when an agent fails to be practically rational. This thesis requires a specification of what it is to be practically rational, but if being practically rational amounts to desiring to act as one judges best, she contends, then the thesis is trivial. It is not a strong claim about a necessary connection between moral judgment and motivation but a mere definitional claim about practical rationality. What's more, it lacks specificity, because it applies as well to what an agent judges to be nonmorally best. Other version of motive-internalism likewise render the thesis trivial (53-55).

On the other horn of the dilemma, the internalist claim is philosophically interesting but false. Here, Roskies argues that persons with injury to the VM cortex are a "walking counterexample" to internalism. As Roskies describes them, such patients "appear cognitively normal on a wide spectrum of standard psychological tests, including those measuring intelligence and reasoning abilities", however, they "all appear to have particular difficulty in acting in accordance with social mores despite their retained ability to judge appropriately in such situations" (56). The condition of these patients has been referred to as "acquired sociopathy". According to Roskies, VM patients are able to "reason morally at a normal level" and their moral claims "accord with those of normals", but they fail to reliably act as normal persons do and, what's more, "seem to lack appropriate motivational and emotional responses" (57). VM patients do not exhibit the skin-conductive response (SCR) to emotionally-charged stimuli that normal persons exhibit, which Roskies take to be evidence of the absence of motivation. VM patients allegedly present a counterexample to motive-internalism because they have mastery of moral terms and appear to make sincere moral judgments, while lacking any motivation to act in accordance with them (59).

Various arguments have been offered against the alleged results of empirical findings for motivational internalism. Some have argued that VM patients lack moral concepts (Kennett and Fine 2007), that VM patients make moral judgments only in what R. M Hare (1963) called the "inverted commas" sense (Kennett and Fine 2007), that VM patients are, in fact motivated when they make moral judgments (Kennett and Fine 2007), that the evidence offered for the claim that VM patients make moral judgments without experiencing emotion "is not decisive" (Prinz 2015), that we have reasons to doubt that VM patients have moral beliefs (Cholbi 2006), and that VM patients have impaired agency and so do not make genuine moral judgments, which require agency (Gerrans and Kennett 2010). In varying ways, these responses challenge whether it is conceptually coherent to treat cases of VM patients as cases of amoralism. Insofar as the disagreement concerns the conceptual coherence of amoralism, it is uncertain how appealing to the empirical literature helps to advance the debate. Of course, Roskies might (following Prinz (2015), see below) maintain that internalism is in fact a psychological rather than a conceptual thesis, in which case these criticisms of the conceptual coherence of treating cases of VM patients as cases of amoralism would no longer apply.

Whether or not Roskies' (2006 and 2007) replies to many of these objections are successful, there are reasons to doubt that the data Roskies cites is sufficient to undermine internalism. Roskies herself acknowledges that some versions of internalism (though ones she considers problematic or as yet insufficiently developed) may be consistent with the data on VM patients.(2003: 62-63) Schroeder et al. (2010: 95) note that research suggests that psychopaths have a "diminished capacity to distinguish moral from conventional violations," which has led some to conclude that they have "impaired moral concepts" (2010: 96, citing Nichols 2004). If they do have impaired moral concepts, then they pose no problem for the internalist. In the case of VM patients, however, they note that it has "been argued that people exhibiting acquired sociopathy do not exhibit moral deficits at all, but that their deficits in non-moral aspects of life merely manifest occasionally in moral situations." Further studies, they indicate, will be needed to resolve the question of whether VM patients pose a threat to what Schroeder et al. call cognitivism and Roskies calls motive-internalism (2010: 97). In any case, it is disputed how best to explain the extant data on VM patients. VM patients who suffer injury early in life exhibit sociopathic behavior, including violent behavior, whereas VM patients who acquire their injuries later in life do not. In dispute is whether the latter patients are not violent, for example, because their moral judgments are to some degree motivating or whether their nonviolent behavior is a function of habit (98). Finally, as Roskies (2007: 205) carefully explains, "the evidence is inconclusive because the best-designed tests of the cognition and behavior of VM patients have not yet been done".

Prinz (2015) has argued, in contrast to Roskies, that empirical evidence supports internalism. He argues first that "internalism can be understood as a psychological thesis" (61), rather than a conceptual or a priori truth, and then offers several empirical arguments in support of it. The first appeals to a view called "sentimentalism".

Moral judgments consist of emotional attitudes.

Emotional attitudes are motivating.

Therefore, moral judgments are motivating. (70)

The controversial step in the argument is the first premise. Prinz says that premise 1 is a statement of sentimentalism, the view that "moral judgments consist of feelings directed at whatever it is that we moralize" (70). He argues that the thesis supports various empirical predictions, which studies bear out. First, neuroimaging studies on moral cognition provide evidence that "people enter emotional states when they make moral judgments" (71). Second, studies show that induced emotions have an impact on moral judgment, and "different emotions have different effects" (72). For example, inducing disgust leads people to judge a scenario involving moral wrongness more harshly. Induced happiness increases positive moral judgments but not negative, whereas anger increases negative moral judgments but not positive moral judgments (72). Finally, people with differing emotional dispositions differ in moral judgments. For example, "psychopaths, who have deficits in several negative emotions, but not disgust, show insensitivity to crimes against persons, but are not known for sexual deviancy" (73), whereas those with Huntington's disease have deficits in disgust, and exhibit patterns of sexual deviancy (72). These findings, Prinz contends, "add support to the claim that emotions are components of moral judgments. Emotions occur when people make moral judgments, they are used as information when reporting strength of moral attitudes, and emotional deficits lead to corresponding deficits in moral sensitivity" (73). According to Prinz, given this evidence, and given decades of research that links emotion to behavior, thereby supporting premise 2, this argument provides strong support for internalism.

What the sentimentalist's claim comes to is far less clear than Prinz allows. Sometimes he says that moral judgments "consist of" emotional attitudes, sometimes that they are "components" of moral judgments. It isn't clear, however, that the evidence provides adequate support for sentimentalism, as opposed to the view that emotions (contingently) accompany moral judgment. That emotions would accompany moral judgment is unsurprising, given the importance of morality to human welfare.

Prinz offers four additional arguments, only two of which are considered briefly here. The first argues from experimental evidence that seems to show that people ordinarily "regard emotions as necessary for having moral attitudes" (75). For example, subjects in one study were asked to assess the moral attitudes of two individuals. Person A smokes marijuana, feels no guilt for doing so, does not have negative attitudes toward others who do, but nevertheless says that he thinks smoking marijuana is morally wrong. Person B smokes marijuana, feels guilt for doing so, has negative feelings toward those who do, but nevertheless says she thinks that smoking marijuana is not morally wrong. The majority of respondents concluded that the first smoker does not really think smoking marijuana is morally wrong, whereas the second really does think it is morally wrong, despite his claims to the contrary. Prinz says that "the majority treat emotions as necessary and sufficient for moral attribution," which suggests that "the ordinary folk are committed to a kind of sentimentalism." This at most would show us what ordinary folks think, though; it would not support sentimentalism as a metaphysical thesis "that it is part of the essence of moral judgments that they can be motivating" (64). Prinz speculates that more research might "establish a more consistent conceptual link between emotions and moral judgments" (76). At present, though, the studies Prinz cites are insufficient to lend much support to internalism.

The second of Prinz's other arguments appeals to studies showing that people are sometimes motivated to act morally, even when it would be instrumentally rational not to. He suggests that the "simplest explanation is that moral judgments have motivational force, independent of nonmoral motivation" (77). But externalists are at least as well-positioned to explain the evidence by appealing to acculturation and common desires to help others or to do the right thing.

Empirical research on moral motivation is, of course, of great interest in its own right. But many would doubt the relevance of such research to what internalists take to be a conceptual claim, a claim about a necessary connection between moral judgment and moral motivation. Even supposing that empirical research could help to resolve the impasse between internalists and externalists, the extant research is far from doing so.

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Zangwill, N., 2003, "Externalist Moral Motivaiton", American Philosophical Quarterly, 40: 143-154.

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The basic phenomenon of moral motivation might be given a more systematic depiction as follows, using ' P ' to stand for some person or individual and 'φ' and 'ψ' each to stand for some action: When P judges that it would be morally right to φ, she is ordinarily motivated to φ; should P later become convinced that it would be wrong to φ and right to ψ instead, she ordinarily ceases to be motivated to φ and comes to be motivated to ψ.

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Top 10 Diamonds In Movies | CT Diamond Museum

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For many years, Hollywood has used diamonds to create excitement in films. View the top 10 movies that managed to take our imagination to the next level.

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By Marion Fasel
If you really think about it, there are countless films in which diamonds play a leading role. After all, the gems are pure screen candy, as well as symbols of love, glamour, and desire.

Whether set into a diamond engagement ring or part of the craziest diamond heist, whenever the diamond makes its way on camera, it's basically a sure-bet that its movie is full of heat and excitement. And who doesn't want to watch that?!

Without further ado, check out our list of the ten best films starring diamonds. While some feature "prop" diamonds, others boast millions of dollars worth of real treasures; when you tune in, try and see if you can tell which are only natural.

Lights... camera.. diamonds!

#1. Marie Antoinette (2006)
Kirsten Dunst in the title role of Marie Antoinette wearing vintage diamond jewelry from Fred Leighton.

Kirsten Dunsten in Fred Leighton. Image via Tumblr

Starring: Kirsten Dunst

Story: A young, decadent French queen faces a public downturn when the court turns against her.

Fun Fact About Diamonds: This Sofia Coppola movie features over $4-million worth of fine jewelry from the legendary New York City boutique Fred Leighton. Watch closely to see how the style of movie jewelry evolves from the story's start to finish. Early on, pieces like a heart shaped diamond engagement ring, an 18 th century moon and star pendant earrings set with 25-carats (!!!) of diamonds, and a large 19 th century feather diamond brooch symbolize the sweetness and lightness of Marie Antoinette's life. But as the court turns against her, jewelry styles sharply shift. At the film's end, look for a dramatic pair of pendant earrings dangling with sharp dagger shapes.

#2. Ocean's 8 (2018)

During the Met Gala scene in Ocean's 8, Helena Bonham Carter sits with Anne Hathaway who is wearing the iconic 'Ocean's 8 necklace', the Toussaint necklace by Cartier.

Anne Hathaway wears the Toussaint necklace by Cartier. Image Courtesy of Ocean's 8

The Original drawing of the necklace by Cartier. Source: Cartier Archives / Forbes

Starring: Sandra Bullock, Anne Hathaway

Story: A crew of criminals plan to steal a Cartier Toussaint diamond necklace at the Met Gala.

Fun Fact About Diamonds: The original Toussaint necklace was actually made by Cartier craftsmen in Paris in 1931 for the Maharajah of Nawanagar. Recreating it in natural diamonds would take years to source and the price would have been as high-if not higher-than the cost of the entire production. For these reasons, a Cartier diamond prop was used in this film. That said, the movie also features many scenes at the Cartier Mansion in New York where lots of gorgeous, authentic real diamond jewels dazzle on display.

#3. Gentlemen Prefer Blondes (1953)
Marilyn Monroe posed with a jewelry tray for a photo used to publicize Gentlemen Prefer Blondes.

Marilyn Monroe / Gentlemen Prefer Blondes 1953 directed by Howard Hawks.
Source: Alamy

Starring: Marilyn Monroe

Story: A showgirl engaged to a wealthy man is followed by a private investigator in this flawless comedic gem.

Fun Fact About Diamonds: Though leading actress Lorelei Lee did not wear real diamonds in the famous film, her passion for them comes across clearly, especially in Marilyn Monroe's performance of the jewelry anthem, "Diamonds Are A Girl's Best Friend"

#4. Titanic (1997)
Billy Zane with Kate Winslet wearing the Coeur de la Mer diamond necklace in Titanic.

Billy Zane, Kate Winslett, Titanic, 1997 Source: Alamy

Starring: Kate Winslet, Leonardo DiCaprio, Billy Zane

Story: A survivor of the epic luxury ship sinking recounts the romance she found on it prior to the tragedy.

Fun Fact About Diamonds: Inspired by the real story of the legendary Hope Diamond, this classic film's 96-carat blue diamond necklace prop (often referred to as the "Titanic Necklace") is dubbed the Coeur de la Mer. The movie begins with motivated treasure seekers trying to track it down in the ocean, and ends as one of the leading roles lets it slip away into the sea.

#5. High Society (1956)

In a scene from High Society, Frank Sinatra sings to Grace Kelly who is wearing her own 10.48-carat emerald cut diamond engagement ring by Cartier.

Left: Grace Kelly and Frank Sinatra, High Society, 1956 Source: Alamy
Right: Grace Kelly Engagement Ring by Cartier. Source: The Guardian

Starring: Grace Kelly, Frank Sinatra, Bing Crosby

Story: This musical comedy is a love triangle with a socialite in the middle.

Fun Fact About Diamonds: This film features one of the most famous diamond engagement rings in the history of Hollywood: a 10.48-carat emerald cut diamond engagement ring by Cartier. It is given a Technicolor close-up when the leading role's ex-husband remarks to her new fiancé, "Some stone George. Did you mine it yourself?"

#6. Moulin Rouge! (2001)
In Moulin Rouge! Richard Roxburgh embraces Nicole Kidman who is wearing the Satine diamond necklace by Canturi.

Nicole Kidman wearing the Satin diamond necklace by Stefano Canturi in 'Moulin Rouge'. Photo Alamy.

Starring: Nicole Kidman, Ewan McGregor, Richard Roxburgh

Story: A young English poet falls in love with a cabaret star.

Fun Fact About Diamonds: Moulin Rouge! features one of the most impressive diamond jewels ever worn in a film. Custom-made by Australian jeweler Canturi and inspired by the Edwardian jewelry style, the 'Moulin Rouge' necklace, also known as the 'Satine' necklace, is set with a total of 134-carats of diamonds in white gold and valued at around $5-million.

Diamonds also saturate the movie in other ways: one of the leading characters is nicknamed 'Sparkling Diamond,' and the soundtrack includes a rousing remix of "Diamonds Are A Girl's Best Friend."

#7. Breakfast at Tiffany's (1961)

Audrey Hepburn wearing the Tiffany Diamond mounted in a necklace by Tiffany designer Jean Schlumberger for a Breakfast at Tiffany's publicity still.

Audrey Hepburn on the set of Breakfast at Tiffany's. Photo: Paramount Pictures /Sunset Boulevard / Getty

Tiffany & Co Ribbon Rosette necklace.
Source: Tiffany & Co.

Starring: Audrey Hepburn

Story: A young woman in New York City searches for a wealthy older man to marry.

Fun Fact About Diamonds: The famous Tiffany & Co. store sparkles like a diamond from the first scene of this 1961 classic. "Nothing bad could ever happen to you at Tiffany's," lead Holly Golightly explains. The store, where there are "diamonds to dream of," is her refuge. Set in an elaborate diamond Ribbon necklace by Tiffany designer Jean Schlumberger, one of the world's biggest and most important yellow diamonds, the whopping 128.54-carat canary Tiffany Diamond, received its very first closeup in the movie.
Of course, more recently, in 2019 Lady Gaga wore the celebrated yellow diamond to the Oscars. Three words: ooh la la.

#8. The Great Gatsby (2013)
Carey Mulligan wearing diamond and pearl jewelry from Tiffany & Co. in The Great Gatsby.

Carey Mulligan as Daisy Buchanan in F. Scott Fitzgerald's The Great Gatsby.
Image Credit: Alamy /Warner Bros

Starring: Cary Mulligan, Leonard DiCaprio

Story: A self-made millionaire pursues his dream girl in and around New York City during the Jazz Age.

Fun Fact About Diamonds: A giant Tiffany diamond engagement ring reportedly worth $3.9 million is the first thing you see from leading character Daisy Buchanan. Throughout the film, her mix of costume and authentic jewelry and accessories, created in partnership between costume designer Catherine Martin and Tiffany & Co., are a true expression of Jazz Age opulence. Custom pieces including a pearl and diamond headband, various handpieces, and other movie jewelry make the entire film completely swoon-worthy.

#9. Downton Abbey (2019)
In the final scene of Downton Abbey, Hugh Bonneville dances with Elizabeth McGovern who is wearing and Edwardian diamond tiara from Bentley & Skinner.

Elizabeth McGovern stars as Lady Grantham and Hugh Bonneville as Lord Grantham and in Downton Abbey. Source: Alamy

Starring: Laura Carmichael, Elizabeth McGovern, Maggie Smith

Story: When the king and queen of England pay a visit to an abbey in 1927, scandal, romance, and intrigue ensues.

Fun Fact About Diamonds: The big screen leap for Downtown Abbey, the beloved PBS series, was accompanied by many sparkling production upgrades-most recognizably a partnership with Bentley & Skinner, London's official royal jeweler for antique and period jewelry. Worn to important dinners by several main characters, featured Bentley & Skinner diamond tiaras include a Victorian style adorned with elegant foliage that was designed to be worn on the forehead like an Art Deco flapper, an Edwardian queen filigree tiara worn high atop the head, and many more. The real diamond hair accessories are just about as fancy as it gets.

#10. Diamonds Are Forever (1971)
Jill St. John who plays Tiffany, the main Bond Girl in Diamonds Are Forever, holding up a prop gem.

Jill St. John in James Bond: Diamonds are Forever (1971) Source: Alamy

Starring: Sean Connery, Charles Gray

Story: Secret agent James Bond tries to stop an evil man from buying the world's diamond supply.

Fun Fact About Diamonds: Aside from this film's entire plot revolving around diamonds, the production's soundtrack features Shirley Bassey's iconic theme song, "Diamonds Are Forever".

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By Marion Fasel If you really think about it, there are countless films in which diamonds play a leading role. After all, the gems are pure screen candy, as well as symbols of love, glamour, and desire.

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Hoe we het ook bekijken, door het coronavirus brengen we meer tijd binnenshuis door. Vooral als het weer wat minder is, geeft ik toe aan mijn favoriete guilty pleasure: films bingen. Wist u dat er nogal wat interessante films over diamanten zijn? We kennen allemaal de prachtige diamant in de Titanic. En vergeet "Breakfast at Tiffany's" niet. Sommige van deze films zullen u misschien verrassen.

Gentlemen Prefer Blondes filmposter. Bron: Pinterest

Gentlemen Prefer Blondes (1953)
Genre: Komedie / Muziek
Misschien wel een van de oudste en meest iconische films over diamanten ooit gemaakt. Naast Jane Russell en Charles Coburn, is "Gentlemen prefer blondes" de film waarmee Marilyn Monroe's doorbrak. Dit is de film uit haar bekende zin en lied "Diamonds are a girl's best friend".

Over Gentlemen Prefer Blondes

Twee vrouwen treden op in nachtclubs. De blonde wil een rijke man ontmoeten. Een slappe miljonair-zoon geeft haar een ring en wil met haar trouwen in Europa. Haar collega mag mee op de boot, waartoe ook een olympisch team behoort. De vader van haar toekomstige echtgenoot is tegen het huwelijk. Hij is ook op het schip om uit te zoeken of de verloofde van zijn zoon te vertrouwen is.

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To Catch a Thief (1955)

Oud maar goud. Als u de namen Cary Grant, Grace Kelly en Jessie Royce Landis en regisseur Alfred Hitchcock ziet, weet u dat deze film over diamanten het bekijken waard is.
Genre: Misterie / Romantiek / Thriller
Over To Catch a Thief

In de Rivièra vindt een reeks ingenieuze diamantovervallen plaats. De politie verdenkt John Robie. Robie is een gepensioneerde dief die vroeger bekend stond als 'The Cat'. Om zijn onschuld te bewijzen, moet hij de diamantdief pakken. De kans is groot dat de dief de volgende keer toeslaat bij Jessie Stevens die in Europa is om haar aantrekkelijke dochter Frances te helpen een man te vinden.

Breakfast at Tiffany's (1961)
Breakfast at Tiffany's filmposter. Bron: Limageriegallery
De meest iconische rol van Audrey Hepburn en een van de beroemdste films over diamanten. De eerste scène van deze film toont een glamoureuze Holly. Ze staat voor een Tiffany & Co., eet een broodje en drinkt een kop koffie. Ze draagt een parel- en diamanten halsketting van Chanel. Dit opmerkelijke stuk en haar Tiffany diamante haarornament maakten van Audrey Hepburn een Hollywood-mode-icoon. Parels zijn altijd stijlvol. De ketting uit de film bevatte tussen de 100 en 120 parels met in het midden een diamanten broche. Het is moeilijk om ze op waarde te schatten omdat de kwaliteit van een parel erg kan variëren. Als het vandaag de dag echter te koop zou worden aangeboden, zou het waarschijnlijk ongeveer $ 50.000 of meer kosten.

Over Breakfast at Tiffany's
Genre: Komedie / Romantiek
Holly, een jonge vrouw uit New York, ontmoet Paul wanneer hij naar haar appartementencomplex verhuist. Hij wordt onderhouden door een rijke oudere vrouw en heeft de ambitie om het als schrijver te maken. Holly werkt als een dure callgirl en is op zoek naar een rijke oudere man om te trouwen. Als Holly en Paul verliefd worden, bedreigt dit het leven van beiden.

Diamonds are Forever (1971)

Een voor de hand liggende en klassieke film: de James Bond-film 'Diamonds are Forever' met Sean Connery als 007.
Diamonds are Forever filmposter. Bron: Vinterior
Over Diamonds are forever

James Bond traceert een uitgebreide diamantsmokkel in Amsterdam. Hier ontmoet hij de verleidelijke Tiffany Case, die even mooi als gevaarlijk is. Bond wordt geconfronteerd met een aantal zeer inventieve pogingen tot moord. Langzaam maar zeker komt Bond erachter dat zijn aartsvijand Ernst Blofeld een hand heeft in zowel de diamantsmokkel als de moorden.
Genre: Actie / Avontuur
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Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom (1984)

Na het succes van Raiders of the Lost Ark creëerden Steven Spielberg en George Lucas nog een Indiana Jones-film. Harrison Ford kruipt opnieuw in de huid van de bekende Indiana Jones.

Over Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom

Het lot brengt Indiana Jones, Short Round en de betoverende nachtclubzanger Willie Scott samen in hetzelfde avontuur. Op weg naar India ontsnappen ze ternauwernood aan de dood. Later belanden ze in een kinderloos dorp. Ze ontdekken dat een slechte sekte kleine kinderen heeft ontvoerd en de Sankara-steen heeft gestolen. Dit is een historische diamant die magische krachten bevat. De sekte gelooft dat als ze alle vijf Sankara-diamanten verzamelen, ze de hele wereld kunnen overnemen. Het is aan Indy om de dag te redden.
Genre: Actie / Avontuur
A Fish Called Wanda filmposter. Bron: Mondaymovienights

A Fish Called Wanda (1988)

Als u John Cleese en de Monty Python-achtie humor leuk vindt, is deze film over diamanten misschien iets voor u. Deze luchtige misdaadkomedie was in die tijd erg populair.

Over A Fish Called Wanda

De Amerikaanse diamantliefhebber Wanda en haar vriend Otto zijn in Engeland om samen met George en Ken een diamantoverval voor te bereiden. Wanda en Otto willen de buit voor zichzelf houden. Daarom besluiten ze de politie over George te informeren. Maar wat ze niet weten, is dat hij de diamanten al op een geheime plek heeft verborgen. Wanda denkt dat de beste manier om de schuilplaats te achterhalen is om George's advocaat Archie Leach te verleiden.
Genre: Komedie / Misdaad
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Pretty Woman (1990)

Een van de meest iconische films ooit gemaakt. Vivian (gespeeld door Julia Roberts) krijgt een prachtige robijn en diamanten halsketting gepresenteerd. In de film vraagt ze wat het waard zou zijn. Edward (Richard Gere) antwoordt dat het rond de $ 250.000 zou zijn. Maar dit was 30 jaar geleden. Direct nadat de film uitkwam, werd deze al geschat tussen de $ 44k en $ 1 miljoen! Vandaag zou de prijs oplopen tot het formaat van een telefoonnummer.

Over Pretty Woman

De rijke zakenman Edward neemt de prostituee Vivian mee naar zijn hotel. Hij is zo dol op haar dat hij haar inhuurt voor zijn hele verblijf in Los Angeles. Ze leren veel van elkaar. Edward hoe hij een beter mens kan zijn en Vivian hoe hij zich als een dame moet gedragen. Ze worden verliefd op elkaar, maar een relatie tussen hen is natuurlijk onmogelijk ..... of toch?

Blood & Wine filmposter. Bron: Moviegoods
Genre: Komedie / Romantiek
Blood and Wine (1996)

In deze thriller spelen Jack Nicholson, Michael Caine en Jennifer Lopez. Nicholson speelt een rijke wijnhandelaar met veel schulden. Hij moet een diamanten halsketting van $ 1 miljoen stelen van een van zijn klanten. Deze ketting is een van de meest extravagante sieraden ooit in een Hollywood-film vertoond.

Over Blood and Wine

Alex Gates is een echte rokkenjager die met grote financiële problemen wordt geconfronteerd. Hij heeft echter de perfecte misdaad uitgezet om in één keer van zijn geldzorgen af te komen. Als wijnleverancier heeft hij toegang tot de rijkste mannen en hun onweerstaanbare speelgoed. Alex slaagt erin om samen met de ziekelijke Victor voor miljoenen aan sieraden te stelen van Frank Reese, een zeer rijke klant. Alex heeft echter de hulp nodig van zijn huidige minnares Gabriella, de Venezolaanse oppas van Reese. Ondertussen is Dina, Reese's vrouw, verliefd geworden op Alex en ze is terughoudend om hem met Gabriella te delen. Wanneer Jason, de stiefzoon van Alex, ook betrokken is bij alle liefdesproblemen en ontdekt wat er aan de hand is, maakt hij zijn eigen plannen. Alex 'criminele plannen leken onfeilbaar. Hij vergat echter rekening te houden met factoren als jaloezie en lust; met alle bloedige gevolgen van dien.

Titanic filmposter. Bron: Atthemovies

Titanic (1997)
Genre: Thriller / Misdaad
Een van de meest wereldberoemde films die u zeker moet zien, of je nu een diamantfan bent of niet. Het is een van de bekendste films over diamanten. Deze film was een enorme hit. Het won elf Oscars en na Avatar en Avengers: Endgame de film die het meest opbracht. De hoofdpersonen - gespeeld door Leonardo DiCaprio en Kate Winslet - zijn fictief. Het schip is echter een wel getrouwe imitatie en veel van de andere personages en gebeurtenissen zijn gebaseerd op de realiteit. Titanic heeft een opmerkelijke gelijkenis met de Hope Diamond.

Over Titanic

In 1996 zoekt de expeditie van Brock Lovett naar 'The Heart of the Ocean', een kostbare diamant die oorspronkelijk toebehoorde aan de Franse koning Louis XVI. Volgens geruchten verdween deze diamant 84 jaar eerder in zee met de Titanic. De expeditie komt in contact met de oudere Rose, een passagier op de Titanic, die de diamant tijdens haar verblijf aan boord droeg.

Rose vertelt haar ervaringen als passagier op de Titanic. Op 17-jarige leeftijd wordt ze door haar familie gedwongen om zich te verloven met Cal Hockley en hem binnenkort te trouwen. Tijdens de eerste reis over de Atlantische Oceaan vanaf de Titanic, een gigantisch passagiersschip dat onzinkbaar wordt geacht, besluit ze zelfmoord te plegen. Ze wordt echter gered door Jack Dawson, een passagier uit de derde klasse. Ondanks hun totaal verschillende oorsprong, worden ze vrienden en al snel groeit de liefde tussen hen.

Snatch filmposter. Bron: Newonnetflix

Snatch (2000)
Genre: Drama / Romantiek
Gewetenloze bokspromotors, gewelddadige bookmakers en een Russische gangster. Maar ook incompetente amateurrovers en zogenaamd Joodse juweliers vechten om een onschatbare gestolen diamant op te sporen. Een film met Jason Stratham, Brad Pitt en Vinnie Jones.

Over Snatch

Turkish en zijn partner-in-crime Tommy zijn betrokken bij de wereld van illegale bokswedstrijden via de beruchte criminele Brick Top. Er is veel geld te verdienen. Wanneer de bokser op wie ze hebben ingezet in de eerste ronde wordt uitgeschakeld, breekt de hel los. Ondertussen wordt elders in Londen een 86-karaats diamant ten onrechte van eigenaar verwisseld. De daders zijn drie overschatte gangsters en een gekke hond. De twee verhalen lijken niets met elkaar te maken te hebben, maar laat u niet misleiden ... Londen wordt geboeid door piepend speelgoed, caravans, lichamen gevuld met lood en een diamant als stralend middelpunt.

Moulin Rouge filmposter. Bron: Movieposters

Moulin Rouge (2001)

In de Baz Luhrmann-film draagt de ongrijpbare Satine (Nicole Kidman) een op maat gemaakt 134-karaats collier van 1.308 diamanten. De ketting is ontworpen door de Australische juwelier Stefano Canturi. Deze zou verkocht worden op de veiling van Christie in New York voor $ 1 miljoen nadat de film klaar was. Dit maakte Moulin Rouge een van de meest populaire en bekende films over diamanten. De maker van de ketting, Stefano Century, nam de ketting echter terug voordat deze onder de hamer kon gaan. Als de ketting verkocht zou zijn, zou het waarschijnlijk de duurst verkochte ketting uit een film ooit zijn. Tot 'How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days' in 2003 in première ging.
Genre: Misdaad / Komedie
Over Moulin Rouge

Parijs, 1899. De jonge schrijver Christian reist naar Montmartre en raakt bevriend met enkele Boheemse kunstenaars. Deze mensen leven een levensstijl van vrijheid, waarheid, schoonheid en liefde. De artiesten proberen een show te verkopen in de Moulin Rouge, wiens eigenaar een goede show nodig heeft om van de nachtclub een echt theater te maken. De graaf die dit mogelijk moet maken, wil de exclusieve aandacht van Satine, de ster van de Moulin Rouge. Ze heeft echter een relatie met Christian.

The Affair of the Necklace filmposter. Bron: Amazon

The Affair of the Necklace (2001)

De affaire van de diamanten halsketting was een incident van 1784 tot 1785 aan het hof van koning Lodewijk XVI van Frankrijk. Het betrof zijn vrouw, koningin Marie Antoinette. Haar reputatie, die al bezoedeld was door roddel, werd geruïneerd door de implicatie dat ze had deelgenomen aan een misdaad om de kroonjuweliers te bedriegen bij het kopen van een zeer dure diamanten halsketting. Het evenement is van historisch belang. Het was een van de gebeurtenissen die leidde tot de Franse teleurstelling over de monarchie. Zoals u wellicht weet, was dit een van de oorzaken die uiteindelijk de Franse Revolutie op gang bracht.

Over The Affair of the Necklace
Genre: Muziek / Romantiek
In het Frankrijk van voor de revolutie raakt een jonge aristocratische vrouw zonder geld vanwege de politieke onrust in het land. Ze moet de terugval van haar familie wreken door een diamanten halsketting van 2.800 karaat te stelen.

How to Lose a Guy in 10 Day filmposter. Bron: Theribofbrown

How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days (2003)

"A woman in lust wants chocolates. A woman in love wants diamonds". Deze beroemde uitspraak komt uit een van de meest iconische films over diamanten, met in de hoofdrollen Kate Hudson, Matthew McConaughey en Kathryn Hahn. How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days heeft een 84-karaats gele diamanten hanger ontworpen door Harry Winston. Het was $ 5,3 miljoen waard en waarschijnlijk de duurste sieraden die ooit voor een film zijn besteld. Nadat de film in premiere is gegaan, is deze ketting verkocht aan een anonieme koper.

Over How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days

Andie Anderson is columnist voor het trendy tijdschrift Composure. Ze krijgt de opdracht om uit de eerste hand te beschrijven hoe je van een man afkomt ... binnen 10 dagen! Andie's doelwit is de gewilde vrijgezel Benjamin Barry. Zonder dit te weten wedt Benjamin ondertussen dat hij een vrouw binnen 10 dagen verliefd op hem kan laten worden.
Genre: Drama / Historie / Romantiek
Blood Diamond filmposter. Bron: Youtube

Blood Diamond (2006)

Nog een diamantgerelateerde film met Leonardo DiCaprio. Maar deze keer over de schaduwzijde van diamanten. De titel verwijst naar bloeddiamanten, diamanten uit oorlogsgebieden en verkocht om conflicten te financieren. Natuurlijk zorgen we er bij Royal Coster Diamonds voor dat we geen bloeddiamanten hebben. Toch is het belangrijk om te weten waarom bloeddiamanten zo verschrikkelijk zijn. Deze film geeft u een goed idee.

Over Blood Diamond

Het is 1999, in Sierra Leone. Het land is verwikkeld in een gewelddadige burgeroorlog. Danny Archer is een smokkelaar die gespecialiseerd is in de verkoop van zogenaamde "bloeddiamanten" om de rebellen te financieren. Zijn leven verandert als hij in contact komt met een visser wiens zoon door de rebellen gevangen is genomen en is opgeleid tot kindsoldaat.
Genre: Komedie / Romantiek
Pink Panther (2007)

Dit is een van de meest iconische films over een unieke diamant. De steen in deze film wordt de Pink Panther genoemd omdat deze in het midden een insluiting heeft die op een panter lijkt. Als de diamant echt was, zouden we hem classificeren als een Type IIa-diamant. Dit is een van de meest zeldzame soorten. In deze film spelen Steve Marting, Kevin Kline en Beyoncé Knowles de hoofdrol.

Over Pink Panther

Inspecteur Jacques Clouseau wordt opgezadeld met de moord op een bekende voetbaltrainer. Het is aan hem om de dader te vinden. Een ongeluk komt echter zelden alleen: ook de bekende 'Pink Panther Diamond' wordt gestolen. Wat hebben deze twee dingen met elkaar te maken?
Genre: Drama / Thriller
Ocean's Thirteen filmposter. Bron: IMDB

Ocean's Thirteen (2007)

Iedereen kent de films van Ocean's over indrukwekkende overvallen. Ocean's Thirteen is de derde op rij uit deze serie met George Clooney, Brad Pitt en Matt Damon.

Over Ocean's Thirteen

Casino-eigenaar Willie Bank staat op het punt een groot casino / hotel in Las Vegas te openen. Maar Bank bedriegt Reuben Tishkoff en plaatst Reuben met hartproblemen in het ziekenhuis. Dat is wanneer Danny Ocean en de rest van de bende besluiten wraak te nemen. Ze willen ervoor te zorgen dat de opening van het casino van Bank eindigt in een grote ramp, waardoor Bank veel geld verliest. De groep probeert daarnaast ook de kostbare en goedbewaakte diamanten te stelen die Bank met haar vorige hotels heeft gewonnen.
The Pink Panther filmposter. Bron: Joblo
The Bank Job filmposter. Bron: Pinterest
Genre: Komedie / Misdaad
The Bank Job (2008)

Een overvalthriller met in de hoofdrol Jason Statham, gebaseerd op de Baker Street-overval in 1971 in het centrum van Londen. Het geld en de waardevolle spullen die tijdens die overval waren gestolen, werden nooit teruggevonden. Volgens de producenten is deze film bedoeld om voor het eerst de waarheid te onthullen. Het bevat echter belangrijke elementen van fictie.

Over The Bank Job

In september 1971 groef een bende dieven een tunnel onder de bank Baker Street in Londen. Ze gingen ervandoor met drie miljoen pond aan sieraden en contant geld. Niemand is ooit gearresteerd en de buit is nooit gevonden. De hele zaak werd door de regering in de doofpot gestopt en pas nu onthuld: een verhaal dat laat zien dat de dieven niet de enige criminelen zijn en dat omvatte moord, een seksschandaal en de koninklijke familie.

Dog Gone filmposter. Bron: The Movie Database

Dog Gone (2008)
Genre: Misdaad / Thriller
Een beetje een vreemde hond ... eh, eend in bijt hier. Gone Dog met Maggy Bashaw, Kenda Benward en Luke Benward is een komedie die lijkt op Home Alone. Deze keer is er echter een hond betrokken met een diamanten halsband. Beetje flauw, maar leuk om samen met kinderen te kijken.

Over Dog Gone

Een beruchte diamantdief en zijn twee onnozele handlangers stoppen langs de hoofdweg. Hier ziet de 12-jarige Owen hoe ze hun hond mishandelen. De jongen komt tussenbeide en wil de hond wat te drinken geven, maar deze kan ontsnappen in het bos. De jongen helpt de boeven bij hun zoektocht naar het dier in het bos, maar laat de mannen daar achter. Owen vindt de hond en ze verstoppen zich in Owen's geheime fort. Dit fort is ingenieus versterkt met valstrikken en afweermechanismen om indringers af te weren. Het is gebouwd bovenop een bergkam waar de zogenaamde 'Madman of the Mountain' zou wonen. De gangsters proberen wanhopig de hond te vinden, omdat ze via hem vijf miljoen diamanten terug kunnen krijgen. Kan een 12-jarig kind in een fort zichzelf en de hond beschermen tegen drie wilde criminelen?

Ocean's Eight filmposter. Bron: Mogulamania

Ocean's Eight (2018)
Genre: Misdaad / Thriller
Wie zegt dat vrouwen een overval niet kunnen organiseren en uitvoeren? Ocean's Eight is de vierde en laatste film in de Ocean-serie met Sandra Bullock, Cate Blanchett en Anne Hathaway.

Over Ocean's Eight

Ocean's Eight volgt het leven van Danny Ocean's criminele zus Debbie. Met de hulp van haar vrouwelijke rechterhand Lou probeert ze een team te rekruteren. Ze willen een diamant stelen tijdens het jaarlijkse Met Gala om een kwaadaardige galeriehouder te trotseren.

Uncut Gems filmposter. Bron: Filmofiel

Uncut Gems (2019)

De meest recente film over diamanten is de 2019-thriller Uncut Gems. Het speelt een (serieuze) Asam Sandler, Julia Fox en Kevin Garnett. De scène speelt zich af in het New York Diamond District. Diamantfans herkennen dit misschien als een van 's werelds grootste diamantcentra.
Genre: Komedie
Over Uncut Gems

Howard Ratner heeft een gokverslaving en is eigenaar van een juwelier in New York. Rijke en bekende mensen zijn kind aan huis bij hem. Een waardevolle ongeslepen diamant uit Ethiopië zou hem eindelijk een financiële boost moeten opleveren op een veiling. Hiermee hoopt Howard uit financiële moeilijkheden te komen. Toch kiest hij ervoor om de opaal uit te lenen aan NBA-ster Kevin Garnett. Kevin is er vast van overtuigd dat deze steen hem magische krachten geeft voor een wedstrijd. Ondertussen doet Howard riskante weddenschappen op basketbalspellen, terwijl duistere schuldeisers hem op de hielen zitten.

Meer films over diamanten

Zoals u zich kunt voorstellen, zijn er veel meer films over diamanten. We gebruiken diamanten om rijkdom en succes uit te drukken. Ze zijn zo waardevol, waardoor ze geliefde objecten zijn om te bezitten... en te stelen. Dat is de reden waarom een diamantroof zo'n geliefd onderwerp is voor films. Wilt u weten waarom films over diamanten zo populair zijn? Boek een Royal Experience in onze diamantslijperij in Amsterdam. Hier leert u alles wat er te weten valt over diamanten, inclusief hoe u zelf een diamant op waarde kunt schatten. Word een diamantexpert en verbaas uw vrienden en familie met uw diamantkennis.

Wilt u meer diamanten op hogere snelheid bekijken? Bekijk dan onze voor al onze diamanten sieraden. Voor meer informatie kunt u telefonisch contact met ons opnemen of langskomen in
Genre: Misdaad / Komedie Genre: Misdaad / Thriller

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20 Films over Diamanten - Royal Coster Diamonds

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Hoe we het ook bekijken, door het coronavirus brengen we meer tijd binnenshuis door. Vooral als het weer wat minder is, geeft ik toe aan mijn favoriete guilty pleasure: films bingen. Wist u dat er nogal wat interessante films over diamanten zijn? We kennen allemaal de prachtige diamant in de Titanic.

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Call it glitter, shimmer, glisten, shiny, brilliance, etc.
This is one of the qualities of diamonds

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vintagejewellery.nl, rikkoert.nl, Sengers in Dordrecht and Breda are a few of the best known names selling vintage and antique jewellery.
This video is just an example of how Vintage Jewellery presents their rings - turning on a plateau.

I think it would be epic to play around with one of these plateaus. So I ordered a small one and a small product photography tent. With this plateau and setup I plan to record videos displaying objects/forms and possibly mini statues.
I can imagine it would look incredible to have these large kind on plateaus as part of the set for a piece. So they can display people, objects, forms, the audience, while they twirl :)
Might be on to something here

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Today september 10th 2021, I ordered three small bottles of liquid latex to experiment with. to test how it works on the body and how it adheres to canvas. Excited!

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Leuk dat je onze site bezoekt. Geef hier aan welke cookies we mogen plaatsen. De noodzakelijke cookies verzamelen geen persoonsgegevens. De overige cookies helpen ons de site en je bezoekerservaring te verbeteren. Ook helpen ze ons om onze producten beter bij je onder de aandacht te brengen. Ga je voor een optimaal werkende website inclusief alle voordelen? Vink dan alle vakjes aan!

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LATEX PER METER, Latex en rubber webwinkel/webshop

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VLOEIBAAR LATEX, in veel kleuren hier verkrijgbaar

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Leuk dat je onze site bezoekt. Geef hier aan welke cookies we mogen plaatsen. De noodzakelijke cookies verzamelen geen persoonsgegevens. De overige cookies helpen ons de site en je bezoekerservaring te verbeteren. Ook helpen ze ons om onze producten beter bij je onder de aandacht te brengen.

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The big question is what do I paint with that is safe for the body and will last. In earlier pieces I have used: acrylic paint, milk paint, textile paint and lipstick.
Obviously acrylic paint has huge safety drawbacks, as do milk paint and textile paint.
Using lipstick made me think about make-up and bodypaint - this lead me to liquid latex!

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Can't ignore sexual desire when thinking of desire

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1. Conceptual Issues

1.1 Sexual Desire

Four broad lines of thought are prominent regarding sexual desire: (1) whether it is merely a biological drive or an intentional mental state; (2) how it should be defined; (3) whether it is benign or malignant; and (4) whether it admits of perverted forms. (I discuss (4) in the third section.)

Definitions of sexual desire in terms of sexual pleasure seem to understand sexual desire as basically an appetite. "Sexual desire" is "desire for contact with another person's body and for the pleasure which such contact produces" (Goldman 1977: 268) or "sexual desire" is "the desire for certain bodily pleasures" (Primoratz 1999: 46; see also Soble 1991: 139-151; 1996: 83). On the first, if X feels sexual desire, then X desires the touch of another person's ( Y) body and the sexual pleasure derived through that touch. The second definition avoids the conceptual involvement of another person, understanding sexual desire instead as desire for sexual pleasures, period. This accommodates cases in which the desire is not for the touch of another's body: some cases of masturbation, voyeurism, and exhibitionism, for example.

These views have in common the idea that sexual desire is desire for brute bodily pleasures, possibly implying that sexual desire is merely a biological appetite. If so, they face the objection that they mischaracterize the nature of sexual desire, which should instead be understood as intentional through and through (Morgan 2003b). So whenever X sexually desires someone or something, X does so under a description: X desires Y because something about Y appeals to X. Even when X desires anonymous sex, X desires "the pleasure of anonymous sex" (Morgan 2003b). On the intentional view, sexual desire is no mere appetite but thoroughly infused with meaning.

Although the intentional view need not insist on the conceptual requirement of another person, its most common instantiation is the idea that sexual desire is interpersonal-that the agent's sexual desire always seeks fulfillment with another person. Being a normal human being means having interpersonal attitudes, and sexual desire is no exception; it must have a proper direction and involve the "marshalling and directing of animal urges toward an interpersonal aim, and an interpersonal fulfillment" (Scruton 1986: 289). On one version, sexual desire involves multiple levels of awareness: X desires Y, desires that Y desire X, desires to be aroused by Y's desire of X, and so on (Nagel 1969). On another version, sexual desire should be directed to love (Scruton 1986: 339; cf. Giles 2008: ch. 3). Both these variations might raise doubts, however, because they layer a normative view of sexual desire, dictating its aim (e.g., towards love), atop a descriptive one as an interpersonal attitude, whereas the trick is to articulate a normatively neutral interpersonal view. Other such views burden sexual desire with too much inter-personality (Russon 2017).

Is the pleasure view of sexual desire committed to understanding sexual desire as mere appetite? Perhaps not. For example, if X wants to masturbate, X is not being led by blind instinct like a cat in heat; X can be thinking, "I look forward to enjoying the sensations of rubbing my clitoris with my favorite vibrator as I fantasize about having sex with my neighbor. " In other words, "sexual desire can be focused or selective at the same time as being physical" (Goldman 1977: 279).

The intentional view is plausible in that sexual desire can be quite complex and that its complexity is not captured well (or at all) by the pleasure view, given that human mentality infuses our most basic urges and appetites. But whether the intentional view is at odds with the pleasure view depends on our goals. If the latter is meant to capture the "essence" of the phenomenon, the two are compatible with each other; if our goal is a detailed description of the depth, complexity, and variety of the phenomenon, the pleasure view falls short. Given that definitions are not usually meant to convey the complexity of what they define, we should not expect a definition of sexual desire to be a full-blown theory sexual desire, while agreeing that it is a complex phenomenon.

This does not mean that the pleasure view of sexual desire is correct, only that its aim or strategy need not be misguided. Indeed, depending on how it is stated it might be wrong. For example, if the pleasure view conceptually ties sexual desire to sexual pleasure obtained through the touch of another person, it would be dualistic and might implausibly render many sexual desires as nonsexual, such as some masturbatory desires, voyeurism, and exhibitionism. Furthermore, the touch of another person 's body implies that zoophiliac desires are nonsexual. Necrophiliac desires would also be nonsexual if "person" refers to a living person. A non-dualistic definition-"for bodily pleasures, period"-avoids such implications (Soble 1991 and later editions of the essay, the last being 2013a; Halwani 2018b: ch. 5).

Even a non-dualistic pleasure view might face difficulties stemming from understanding desire in terms of what it seeks (sexual pleasure). One problem is the difficulty of defining "sexual pleasure" (see below), which this view needs to do to be complete. But there might be additional problems. First, not all sexual desires are for sexual pleasure: a couple might have sex to have a baby, even though the act is pleasurable (Jacobsen 2017: 33; see also 1993). Second, our sexual partners would in principle be dispensable if there are other ways to attain the pleasure. This objection is not moral-that we use our sexual partners as mere instruments-but ontological: sexual pleasure cannot be the only or common goal to all sexual desires otherwise the agent would be indifferent between the available ways of attaining sexual pleasure. Since this is not true, sexual desire is not solely for sexual pleasure (Jacobsen 2017: 33).

Given that the pleasure view understands sexual desire in terms of an object (pleasure), we can describe it as "object-based". An alternative is the "feature-based" approach, which defines "sexual desire" in terms of "sexual arousal" (Jacobsen 2017). Sexual arousal is a state we find ourselves in-it is basically the state of being turned on or horny, manifested in erections, lubricated vaginas, flushed faces, and "tingling earlobes" (Jacobsen 2017: 35; cf. Shaffer 1978). Because this state is enjoyable, we often induce it in ourselves: we think about sex in order to be sexually aroused (Jacobsen 2017: 34-35). "Sexual desire" is then

a subject's desire for something-some activity, person, or object-in virtue of the effect that it is expected to have on the subject's own states of sexual arousal. (Jacobsen 2017: 36)

This is a feature-based account in that at point t in time, I desire someone in virtue of, say, the pleasure that his voice brings me, but at point t+1 I desire him in virtue of the sexual pleasure his body brings me. This allows the feature-based view to avoid being confined to the false binary of my desire for someone being either sexual or not, a problem that the object-based approach might face.

The feature-based view, however, might pass the buck: either "sexual arousal" means what we usually mean by "sexual desire" (the examples of sexual arousal-erections, lubricated vaginas-might serve equally well as examples of sexual desire), or it does not. If the former, we would still need a definition of "sexual arousal", much like we needed a definition of "sexual desire". If the latter, we would need an account of what "sexual arousal" is, because now it does not mean what we thought it meant: if it is not the same as sexual desire, what exactly is it? Referring back to erections and lubricated vaginas will not do, because we may ask, "Why aren't they states of sexual desire?" So defining "sexual desire" in terms of sexual arousal might be convincing only if we can understand "sexual arousal" independently of "sexual desire" (Halwani 2018b: 170-171).

The objections to the object-based views merit scrutiny. First, even if the goal of sexual desire is sexual pleasure, unless we assume that sexual pleasure is uniform across different contexts (an assumption with which the feature-based view saddles the object-based one), one might not be indifferent to how the pleasure is produced. Second, although the couple in the example want to have sex from procreative motives, this might not show that their sexual desire (if it exists in this case) is not for pleasure. People can have sex from nonsexual motives (most prostitutes), but once we postulate the motive of sexual desire, the motive of pleasure is present. People's intentions for nonsexual goals in a sex act cannot wave away the desire for pleasure; sexual desire has an independence that cannot be (metaphysically) wiped away by intentions or nonsexual motives (see Dent 1984: ch. 2; see also Hamilton 2001: ch. 9; Webber 2009).

This independence lends support to pessimist views of sexual desire. Although pessimism and optimism have moral implications - some of which are addressed below - they are based in the nature of sexual desire. Pessimism considers sexual desire morally dangerous and threatening to our rationality (including Christian philosophers such as Augustine and Thomas Aquinas, Plato, Kant, and Schopenhauer [1859: ch. 44], and, among contemporary philosophers of sex Alan Soble, whose views in "Sexual Use" [2013b; 2017b] imply with some certainty that he is also a pessimist). Pessimism is opposed by optimism, which views sexual desire as generally benign and as bringing people together (it commands a large majority of the philosophers of sex, including Bertrand Russell 1929: passim; Irving Singer 2001: passim; and Martha Nussbaum 1995, 1998), though it recognizes that it can be morally problematic (Morgan 2003a). The issue, then, between the pessimists and the optimists concerns not whether sexual desire can be morally problematic, but whether it is so by its nature (Soble, with Halwani 2017: 5-8).

Sexual pessimism can be deep. One version is that sexual desire is for another's body "as an organic totality in situation with consciousness at the horizon" (Sartre 1943 [ 1956: 502]). Sexual desire aims to capture a person in their entirety through their body. To do so, the agent must also make him or herself pure flesh by allowing sexual desire to "clog" his or her consciousness (Sartre 1943 [1956: 504]). Thus, "I make myself flesh in the presence of the Other in order to appropriate the Other's flesh" (Sartre 1943 [1956: 506]). Another version of deep pessimism considers sexual desire to be for the sexual parts or body of another person, not the person's "work and services" (Kant 1930 [1963: 163]; see also 1797: 6:424-6:427; we discuss below the moral implications of this view). Sexual desire sets aside another's humanity and targets their flesh. This does not mean that in desiring Y, X would be as happy with Y's corpse or with Y unconscious as with Y alive (as Shrage and Stewart [2015: 6] claim); for X, Y-dead is not at all equally preferable to Y-alive. It also does not mean that during sex X treats Y as an object with no desires or interests of Y's own. Instead, X treats those interests as merely instrumental to the satisfaction of X's sexual desires (Halwani 2018b: ch. 8, Soble 2013b, 2017b; see also Herman 1993; O'Neill 1985; Papadaki 2007). A phenomenology of sexual desire seems to support the above views, according to which in sexually desiring Y, X is attracted to the bodily, physical attributes of Y.

Sexual optimism claims that although sexual desire can be morally dangerous, it need not be and is usually not. They agree that its focus is on the body but do not see this as a problem. Sex intimately and pleasurably brings two (or more) people together. It is a force for good, establishing trust and strengthening human bonds. Unlike appetites,

sexual interest ... [is] ... an interpersonal sensitivity, one that enables us to delight in the mind and character of other persons as well as in their flesh... [S]ex may be seen as an instinctual agency by which persons respond to one another through their bodies. (Singer 1984: 382; see also Goldman 1977: 282-283; Russell 1929 [1970: passim])

For the optimist, Soble notes, "Sexual pleasure is ... a valuable thing in its own right, something to be cherished and promoted because it has intrinsic and not merely instrumental value" (Soble, with Halwani 2017: 8).

1.2 Sexual Activity

It is difficult to define "sexual act" or "sexual activity." Various proposed criteria face difficulties (Soble 2006a). This is especially so when closely related concepts (e.g., "having sex") do not have the same extension. In ordinary language use, and according to some studies, people distinguish between having sex and sexual activity; they count many activities as sexual but not as having sex, such as solo masturbation, cyber-sex, and even oral sex (Soble 2006a: 15-16). Solo masturbation counts as sexual activity and as a sexual act, but not as having sex. There are a few criteria to define "sexual activity" (Soble 2006a). One criterion is reproduction: for an activity to be sexual it has to be or aim at being reproductive. This faces obvious counter-examples, such as same-sex sexual activities and heterosexual oral and anal sex (Soble 2006a: 18-19). Another criterion is bodily contact: sexual activities are those that involve contact with sexual body parts (though we need to figure out what these are). This fails as a sufficient condition (doctors sometimes have to touch patients' genitals) and as a necessary one (achieving orgasm during a phone-sex chat) (Soble 2006a: 19-20).

Sexual pleasure is a third criterion: "Those activities ... are sexual ... which give rise to sexual pleasure" (Gray 1978: 191-192). But the production of sexual pleasure is not necessary because many acts do not produce such pleasure; and this criterion conceptually rules out non-pleasurable sex (Soble 2006a: 21-22). It might also not be sufficient: a man might see someone on the street and feel a twinge of sexual pleasure (Soble 1996: 130). The presence of sexual pleasure in this case does not suffice for the man's experience to be sexual activity (perhaps if the man continues to look the experience becomes a sexual activity because of his intention to keep looking; Soble 1996: 130).

Another criterion is intention, though we need to figure out what the intention is for. One reasonable candidate is "the intention to produce sexual pleasure in oneself or in another". But this is not necessary: two people who have sexual intercourse to procreate engage in a sexual act. The experience, if any, of sexual pleasure is a by-product of the action (Soble 1996: 132). This criterion is also not sufficient. Suppose that X intends to produce sexual pleasure in Y by "whistling 'Dixie'," but what X does is not a sexual act (Soble 2006a: 22).

Another criterion for defining "sexual activity" is sexual desire:

sexual desire is desire for contact with another person's body and for the pleasure which such contact produces; sexual activity is activity which tends to fulfill such desire of the agent. (Goldman 1977: 268)

A "sexual act" (or "activity", in Goldman's terms) is activity "which tends to fulfill" sexual desire.

The definition sounds right: what else is a sexual act if not one that satisfies or "tends to" satisfy sexual desire? But it faces counter-examples. A prostitute performing fellatio on a man does it (typically) not to satisfy or fulfill her sexual desire, but to make money. Nor does the act tend to fulfill her desire, for she might have none to be fulfilled. Thus satisfying sexual desire is not necessary for an activity to be sexual. Whether it is sufficient depends on what we mean by "satisfaction" or "fulfillment". If it means "the desire is no longer felt for the time being" or "the desire is gone", satisfying sexual desire would not be sufficient. Taking a cold shower, a powerful sleeping pill, or even just focusing on something else might get rid of the sexual desire, yet these activities are not sexual. If "satisfying sexual desire" means, "the desire achieves its goal" (which is sexual fulfillment), satisfying sexual desire by a particular activity would be sufficient for that activity to be sexual, but the definition becomes circular. The criterion of sexual desire, then, does not succeed in defining "sexual act".

By the above criteria, a definition of "sexual activity" is hard to find. One crucial reason might be that what we commonly think is a sexual act does not depend on one criterion: behavior, intentions, contact with body parts, etc., play a role depending on the context. Another reason might be that there are many concepts closely related to each other that nonetheless commonly mean different things. "To have sex" or "to engage in sex" almost always refer to sexual activity with at least one more person, whereas "engaging in a sexual activity)" and "having a sexual experience" do not have this reference, and they are not common expressions. Thus, defining these concepts is tricky if we want the definitions to agree with common linguistic usage, or if we rely on such usage to formulate these definitions. More worrisome, if we need to define these concepts for help with practical, moral, and legal issues, the rift between them and common language should give us pause.

1.3 Sexual Pleasure

"Pleasure" refers to various phenomena: (a) physical sensations, with specific bodily locations (e.g., scratching an itch); (b) enjoyment, as when one takes pleasure in solving a jigsaw puzzle or lying under the sun (enjoyment does not have a specific bodily location, though the same phenomenon can be experienced as sensation and as enjoyment (e.g., lying under the sun); a "pure" feeling that is felt all over but has no specific bodily location, and that need not be focused on a particular activity, such as being elated (Goldman 2016: 88); and (d) an attitude, to be "pleased at something"; the belief that what one is pleased at is good (Goldman 2016: 83-90).

We thus have four types of pleasure: pleasure-as-sensation, pleasure-as-enjoyment, pleasure-as-feeling, and pleasure-as-pro-attitude. All four concepts can be relevant to sex, but it is the first two that are important, because each can be a type of sexual pleasure, whereas the third is typically consequent to sexual activity and the fourth is about sex. (a) The pleasure of orgasm is an obvious example of the first, and (b) enjoying sexual activity is a usual experience that people undergo. (c) One can experience elation because of having had great sex, and (d) one can feel pleased at that.

Moreover, one or more parties to the act might experience pleasure-as-sensation, yet not enjoy the activity itself. One can experience the pleasurable sensations of sex and enjoy the act, yet feel repulsion later. We can thus see how each pleasure has its opposite: one can feel painful sensations during a sexual act (e.g., at being anally penetrated), one can endure a sexual act (not enjoy it), and one can feel nausea at what one has done sexually.

Although orgasm does not exhaust the pleasures of sex, there is something to the idea that the pleasure of orgasm is unique. As a sensation, it is unique in the way it feels and in its intensity, though this feeling might differ between men and women, especially since women seem to experience various types of orgasm (Komisaruk et al. 2006: ch. 7; Meston et al. 2004: 174-176; but see Wallen and Lloyd 2011: 780-783). Moreover, it contrasts with other sensation-pleasures in its physiological aspects and ability to be produced through genital stimulation. For example, the sensation of having one's ear licked is not as such a pleasure and depends on who one thinks is licking it. But the sensation of orgasm is not like this, which makes orgasm a pleasure that cuts across social layers, a bodily sensation unmediated by social meanings or concepts; "the trait of female orgasm [is] a physiological trait or reflex, not a social trait" (Lloyd 2005: 48). Of course its frequency, significance, and meaning vary socially, culturally, and contextually (Blair et al. 2017; Janssen 2007; Mah and Binik 2002). This feature of orgasm might explain how we can speak of sexual desire across times and cultures as a unified phenomenon, even though sexual desires and bodily sensations are socially and linguistically mediated.

If the pleasure of orgasm is unique, why do people usually prefer sex with someone else to masturbating, given that masturbating produces orgasms, often more intense than partnered sex? This shows that orgasm is not the only pleasure sought in sexual activity, not that its pleasure is not unique. Touching, smelling, kissing, and licking, for example, are other goals of sexual desire (Soble 1996: 85-86). We can even claim that people prefer the pleasure of orgasm through these other goals.

The discussion of sexual pleasure is important in itself and for defining "sexual desire" and "sexual activity":

Sexual activity can ... be defined as activity that tends to fulfill sexual desire, while sexual desire is sufficiently defined as the desire for certain bodily pleasures, period. (Primoratz 1999: 46)

"Sexual activity" is ultimately defined in terms of "sexual pleasure" via that of "sexual desire". But which bodily pleasures? One answer is pleasure-as-sensation: those "experienced in the sexual parts of the body, i.e., the genitals and other parts that differentiate the sexes" (Primoratz 1999: 46). More generally, and accounting for sexual pleasures not located in the genitals, sexual pleasure

is the sort of bodily pleasure experienced in the sexual parts of the body, or at least related to those parts in that if it is associated with arousal, the arousal occurs in those parts. (Primoratz 1999: 46)

To distinguish a sexual from a nonsexual kiss, we ask which of the two is associated with arousal, and we understand the notion of arousal as essentially linked to the sexual body parts.

Because the above view relies solely on sexual pleasure-as-sensation, it would have to understand the other two types ultimately in terms of pleasure-as-sensation. That is, what makes sexual pleasure-as-enjoyment sexual is its connection to arousal. This implies that "sensory pleasure is more fundamental when it comes to sex" (Goldman 2016: 95). Although in nonsexual contexts we do not pursue activities because of their sensual pleasures, we pursue sex for sexual pleasure-as-sensation.

In most activities, the pleasure and the activity are intertwined-we do not watch a movie and then feel the pleasure. Instead, we enjoy the movie as we watch it. The pleasures here are pleasures-as-enjoyment. Things are different with sex because of pleasure-as-sensation, specifically, orgasm. Sexual pleasure-as-enjoyment supervenes on sexual pleasure-as-sensation, and it often culminates in orgasm, a result that comes at the end of the activity (though the orgasm as an end differs between men and women). We can then see why some prominent philosophers have considered temperance and intemperance to be about bodily appetites satisfied especially through touch (Aristotle, Nicomachean Ethics 1118a-1118b).

Moreover, sexual pleasure seems to be the primary motive for sexual activity: although sexual activity has other goals (Meston and Buss 2007), few people would have sex just to exercise, to boost their self-image, or for revenge, and although many people would have sex just to procreate, procreation would plummet were sex to not be enjoyable. It then seems that sexual pleasure provides a basic motive for sexual activity that underlies multiple other motives.

Sexual pleasures-as-enjoyment and as-feeling might thus be parasitic on sexual pleasures-as-sensations. The butterflies one feels in one's stomach at the prospect of sex exist because of the expectation of sensual pleasure, and so does enjoying a sexual act. Sexual pleasure, especially as-sensation, stands out as the main motivation for having sex, and its concept supplies us with a good way of defining "sexual activity" and "sexual desire".

It is a contentious question in the philosophy of sex of how the triumvirate concepts of "sexual desire", "sexual activity", and "sexual pleasure" are ordered when it comes to their conceptual analysis. Which concept is prior? (Jacobsen 2006).

1.4 Sexual Preferences and Orientation

Sexual orientation is commonly understood as a person's standing sexual preference for men, women, or both. It is a basic preference, unlike, say, the preference for blondness or buttock size. It is also an organizing preference: other sexual preferences are built upon it (Stein 1999: ch. 2). A foot fetishist is either gay, straight or bisexual, before he is a foot fetishist, though it is an empirical question whether there can be sexual orientations for body parts (or objects) regardless of the gender or sex of the person's body part (Stein 1999: ch. 2; Wilkerson 2013).

Mere sexual preferences vary tremendously, targeting people, objects, activities, and sexual positions, probably because they are a function of the person's individual history and the available social and cultural options (on this variety, see Love 1992). Given their variety, it is inevitable that some preferences are considered perverted (e.g., coprophilia), some immoral (e.g., pedophilia), and some both. Yet with others it is not so obvious, such as sexual preferences for members of particular races or ethnic groups. Perhaps X 's preference for Asian women is innocent, on a par with the preference for tall people. But it might also indicate an ethical fault if, say, racially ugly stereotypes inform it (Halwani 2017b; Zheng 2016).

Returning to sexual orientation, its popular conception relies on dubious assumptions (Corvino 2006a; Dembroff 2017). (1) It assumes three basic orientations: homosexual, heterosexual, and bisexual. (2) It includes the gender or sex of the person who has the orientation as an essential element of the orientation; X's being gay means that X has the same sex/gender as the target of the orientation. (3) It is ambiguous between sex and gender: is a straight man attracted to the gender or the sex of women? (The same question arises regarding the person with the orientation.) (4) It assumes a binary of gender/sex for both parties, excluding people who exist outside the binary. (5) It is ambiguous between sexual and emotional attraction: if a man is emotionally attracted to other men, does that mean that he is gay or something else? (6) It is silent on what counts as the basic components of the orientation: is it behavior, desires, or fantasies? Finally, (7) it assumes the cross-temporal and cross-cultural existence of the three sexual orientations: there were gay men and gay women in 15 th century Russia just as there were in 21 st century North America, albeit with adjustment for cultural variances.

(1) There is no good reason to believe that there are only three sexual orientations. Many men are attracted to people with female features from the waist up but male features from the waist down (a penis). What is their orientation? Many men are also attracted to both young boys and women-this is true of many cultures around the world, past and present. Are they all bisexuals? It is also possible that some men are attracted to young people, both girls and boys. Is there a sexual orientation, then, for young people? And zoophilia threatens to expand the number of sexual orientations with no limit: genuine zoophiles-people who have long-standing desires to have sex with nonhuman animals-will have as many sexual orientations as there are different types of animals to which they are attracted (Wilkerson 2013).

(2) It is unclear why the gender/sex of the person with the orientation should be a component of the conception of sexual orientation. Under the poplar conception, if a formerly straight man is currently a woman (after transitioning), they would now be a lesbian (assuming that their sexual desires for women does not change). But if we omit the person's own gender from the conception, the person's sexual orientation remains the same. Perhaps this would be politically and morally better (Dembroff 2017).

(3) The lack of distinction between sex and gender makes it hard to classify cases such as this: X is attracted to Y who is anatomically male (sex) but who presents herself as a woman (gender). Assume that X's own gender and sex are male. Then, whether we claim that X is gay or is straight, we face obstacles: if X gay, X would not be attracted to someone who appears as a woman. If X straight, X would not be attracted to someone who is anatomically male. The popular concept of orientation leaves such cases unclassified (Corvino 2006a; Wilkerson 2013).

(4) Connected to the previous point is that the popular understanding of sexual orientation assumes a binary conception of sex/gender, albeit one that can include trans people. A straight woman is a woman, cis or trans, who is attracted to men (cis or trans). Thus, there is no room for people who are gender fluid or whose gender or sex identification exists outside the binary (Dembroff 2017).

(5) Both the American Psychological Association and the Human Rights Campaign understand "sexual orientation" as including emotional attraction. The former's definition states,

Sexual orientation refers to an enduring pattern of emotional, romantic, and/or sexual attractions to men, women, or both sexes. (American Psychological Association, Introduction to "Sexual Orientation and Homosexuality", Other Internet Resources)

Thus, the APA believes that a man would be straight were he to be emotionally (even if neither romantically nor sexually) attracted to a woman. Yet it is possible that he is nonetheless sexually attracted to men, a result that leads to conceptual trouble. Perhaps keeping the conception of sexual orientation limited to sexual attraction so as to avoid such muddles is better (though adding romantic attractions is plausible, given that they include a sexual dimension) (Dembroff 2017).

(6) The popular conception of sexual orientation is not so crude as to rely solely on behavior, but it is silent on what we should rely. Desires and fantasies are obvious candidates. But occurrent desires are not a good guide to sexual orientation: a shepherd can sexually desire sex with a sheep, but he need not be a zoophile, even were his desire for it to recur. David-a straight guy-might desire oral sex from another man (Tom) or other men. Recourse to "enduring desires", as in the APA's definition, might not do the trick if the conditions under which David desires oral sex from other men recur. Other information, such as counter-factual information as to what the person would do under such-and-such conditions (e.g., Stein's "ideal conditions"; 1999: ch. 2), is needed-if David prefers a woman's mouth under ideal conditions, then he is straight. But stating these conditions is tough. What if David prefers the way that Tom performs oral sex? David might, under some conditions, still opt for Tom (Corvino 2006a; cf. Díaz-León, forthcoming).

Perhaps fantasies are a better guide if we have a good way of distinguishing between fantasies that indicate the person's sexual orientation and those that don't (after all, David's desire for Tom is a fantasy of sorts; Storms 1980). This might push us to ideal conditions again, to distinguish between someone's real and "fake" fantasies. Or we might rely on initial sexual impulses: what sexually catches the eye of someone, without much thought: David does desire Tom's oral skills, but what captures David's sexual eye are women, not men.

(7) Philosophers and historians of sex are roughly divided into social constructionists and essentialists. Weak social constructionism claims that the concepts of "homosexuality", "heterosexuality", "natural sexuality", and similar concepts are limited to a specific time period and geographical region. This version is weak because it is only concerned with how sexuality is conceptualized: there might have been homosexuals in ancient Greece, but the ancient Greeks did not think about them using the concept "homosexual". Strong social constructionism-more in line with Michel Foucault's views (1976)-claims that the very existence of homosexual and heterosexual orientations is geographically and temporally limited; our concepts of "homosexual" and "heterosexual" do not refer to anything when used to refer to other times and regions. Essentialists claim that homosexuals, heterosexuals, and bisexuals have existed in various times and cultures (see Card 1995: ch. 3; Corvino 1997: pt. III; Corvino 2006b; De Cecco 1981; Mohr 1992: ch. 7; Stein 1992, 1999: ch. 4; Wilkerson 2013).

Essentialism does not appear to be correct. It has difficulty accounting for the historical and cultural evidence: Were all the ancient Athenians who had sex with boys and women bisexuals? Possibly, but then why, in such social configurations, do we find a preponderance of bisexual men? If they were not all bisexuals, what were they? Neither "homosexual" nor "heterosexual" is adequate. Perhaps then such men had an altogether different sexual orientation. Related to this, essentialism has to be universally true for it to be true at all, for if it excludes some cultures and times, it concedes the truth of social constructionism. But if true of every single culture, it would be a very strong thesis, and the need for evidence becomes more urgent. Perhaps, then, some version of social constructionism is true. Our sexual desires are biologically rigid enough to target mostly members of our species, but not so rigid as to reflect only our three basic sexual orientations, though social constructionism would have to properly accommodate evolutionary biology's "designing" us for procreation (Halperin 1990: ch.1).

1.5 Sexual Identity

The concept of "identity" is a philosophical minefield: identity can be descriptive or normative; public or personal; with explanatory power or inert. The distinction between first person and third person attributions of identity helps us see this. When Amy asserts that she is gay, she could be describing herself (informing someone of who she is); she could be asserting a political or cultural position, especially if the identity in question is threatened by the powers that be ("I am gay", uttered as a way of resisting oppression); or she could be making sense of herself, either to herself or to others: "I am gay" helps Amy see herself or others see her more coherently. Third parties can make the same assertion about Amy in any of these ways.

The second and third ways are interesting because they allow choice with respect to the identity, and disagreement about its assertion. Amy can choose to adopt, be indifferent to, or reject the identity of being gay, and she can choose to use it (or not) to make sense of herself. She might fail to identify with her homosexuality because it is not important to her, because she does not find gay cultural ways appealing, because she does not think highly of gays, because she is ashamed, because she is religious, etc. This allows for healthy disagreements with Amy's decisions. And Marcia, a straight woman, might be wrong to assert her straight identity in a climate in which gay people are oppressed, much like a person might be wrong to assert his white identity in a racist society, also allowing for disagreements with her (see Alcoff 2006, esp. pt. I; Appiah 2005: ch. 3; Halwani 2006; Lance & Tanesini 2000; Ozturk 2017; Wilkerson 2007).

2. Normative Issues

2.1 Good and Bad Sex

"Good sex" and "bad sex" can refer to moral, pleasurable, aesthetic, practical, legal, and, especially with sex, naturalness (Soble 2008: 85-87; Soble, with Halwani 2017: 8-16). It is unclear what aesthetic sex is (this is in need of philosophical exploration), but applying some common aesthetic concepts, such as "unity", "coherence", and "completeness"-concepts used in defining the aesthetic experience (Beardsley 1982: chs. 1, 5, 16; cf. Levine 2006; Singer 2001: ch. 5)-might be useful: a sexual act can be coherent, unified, and fulfills the parties' expectations (this is Beardsley's view of completeness; 1982: 85-86). Assuming these three are the only components of aesthetic experiences, sexual activity can provide an aesthetic experience to its participants. Other concepts, such as "beauty" and its opposites (e.g., "dullness", "monotony", "the disgusting", "the insipid") can also be relevant, though whether they retain their aesthetic sense when applied to sex is the question. This last point is as true, if not more, of "pleasure": Is there such a thing as aesthetic pleasure, and can it be a property of sexual acts?

Sex can also be practically or pragmatically good or bad: a "sexting" politician can ruin his career, unprotected anal sex risks contracting HIV, sex without contraception risks pregnancy (if undesired), and public sex risks arrest. Practically good sex does not lead to bad results or has positive outcomes: a sense of rejuvenation, loss of calories, or a wanted pregnancy. We do not discuss aesthetic, practical, and legal considerations, though many issues that go under them are also moral (e.g., pregnancy and STDs).

"Good sex" most obviously refers to pleasurable sex. A sex act can be good or bad depending on the amount and intensity of the pleasure or pain it provides (Vannoy 1980: ch. 3), though pain in sex can contribute to its pleasure (in BDSM sex, e.g.). We must keep in mind the different senses of "pleasure" that can come into play, though pleasure-as-sensation and pleasure-as-enjoyment are crucial because they are often the reason people pursue sexual activity. Imagine the sexual experience of a woman forced into marrying someone she finds undesirable, even revolting. Such negative emotions provide the crucial reason why consent is necessary. Note also how negative evaluations border on the moral: a disgusting sexual experience is both painful and, perhaps because of this, leaves a bad moral taste in one's mouth.

2.2 Sex and Morality

Sexual activity is either morally permissible or impermissible. There is consensus among philosophers that informed and voluntary consent is necessary for the moral permissibility of sex though there are dissenters, and consent's sufficiency is debatable (see below).

We usually think of sexual activity as neither obligatory nor supererogatory, but as permissible in that (genuine) consent is sufficient. Yet there are interesting questions. (1) Are there sexual acts that are good in some more positive sense? (2) Are there sexual obligations-moral obligations to engage in sexual activity? and (3) Are there sexual supererogatory actions?

The answer to (1) is "Yes," and the virtues help us see this: sexual activity can be caring, courageous, kind, generous, compassionate, or fair. Each is compatible with the activity being merely for the sake of sexual pleasure (not connected to love or other positive emotions), and each is done from a motive that is additional to, or in place of, that of sexual desire, and neither possibility subtracts from the goodness of the act. Actually, acting from sexual desire might diminish its goodness if sexual desire objectifies (see below). Thus, sexual activity can be morally evaluated as good beyond permissibility because of participant consent. Further questions concern sexual desire's connections to the virtues and the vices (especially temperance and intemperance) and how a virtuous (and vicious) agent relates to sex, including how they sexually act and what motivates such actions (Halwani 2003: ch. 3, 2018a, 2018b: ch. 7; Morgan 2003a).

(2) Clear cases of sexual obligations exist in relationships (though the obligations are likely imperfect) because sexual activity is an expected and crucial aspect of (especially monogamous) relationships. Note that ordinarily threatening harm to someone unless they have sex is morally wrong, but threats to end a relationship unless the other party has sex ("Have sex with me or I will break up with you") are not obviously wrong, further indicating that sexual obligations exist (Anderson 2013; Soble 2017a; Wertheimer 2003: ch. 12).

The difficult question is whether there are sexual obligations outside such relationships. If having sex is a basic need, perhaps plausible cases involve a health caretaker alleviating the sexual needs of a patient. Even if not a duty, such actions might be classified as supererogatory (Soble 2017a: 453-54; see below). These cases are plausible only if sexual needs are basic and if certain professionals have duties to meet them. One can argue that although under the usual conception of "health care professional" (e.g., a nurse) there are no such duties, society should create a category of such professionals to meet these needs-if they are indeed basic.

Still, sexual obligations might exist outside professional roles, based in general duties of benevolence-attending to someone's sexual needs would be similar to attending to someone's hunger (Soble 2017a: 454-55). But who is to fulfill these obligations? What would their fulfillment amount to (is masturbating the beneficiary of the duty enough)? Do the gender and sexual orientation of the parties matter? These are tough questions, but they have their parallels in nonsexual domains-Who has to fulfill the obligation to feed the starving? Is a plate of boiled rice enough or more sophisticated dishes are required?

But they might not be exactly parallel. The extent to which someone's sexual needs are properly met does somewhat depend on their sexual desires and preferences: a straight man's needs might not be met by a gay one, and straight women meeting men's sexual needs is troubling given sexism and gender-based oppression. Moreover, if X's sexual need cannot be alleviated by X masturbating, how the needs are to be met is a pressing question, and so is how the depth of a sexual need is determined to see whether it gives rise to an obligation.

Even if such sexual obligations do not exist, obligations to ourselves to develop or dampen certain sexual preferences might, assuming there are general moral obligations to ourselves. Pedophiles, for example, might have an obligation to change their preferences, not merely to refrain from acting on them. Other examples include obligations to change one's preferences (or their lack) for, say, members of a particular race, ethnic group, age group, body type, etc. These are more controversial, however, because it is not clear that such preferences are bad to begin with (Halwani 2017b; Zheng 2016), and some might not be under our control as others are (preference for skin color vs. age group).

(3) A supererogatory action is permissible but not obligatory, is intended to benefit the recipient, involves, or probably involves, "a significant reduction in the interests or good of the agent, [o]r the act is risky, significantly, not trivially", and is such that the agent knows or truly believes this in advance (Soble 2017a: 452; the agent's belief has to be true; falsely believing that the act is risky might disqualify the act from being supererogatory). There can easily be permissible, non-obligatory sexual actions intended to benefit the recipient. So everything hinges on the criterion of serious risk to the agent.

The inclusion of risk is controversial, because one can imagine non-obligatory actions that greatly benefit another without risk to the agent (the examples of supererogation given in Heyd 2015 include both risk and non-risk cases). But it is plausible to assume it because it explains why the agent, not only the act, is admirable, and (see below) without risk it is implausible to speak of supererogatory sexual acts. What are the risks to the agent in the case of sexual supererogation? Risk of pregnancy is one, risk of contracting serious (or not so serious) diseases is another. But consider: X is attracted to and wants to have sex with Z, whom X meets in a bar. For some reason, having sex is a crucial need for Z, and X knows this. X also knows that were X to have sex with Z, there's a serious risk that Y, X's partner, will find out and dissolve the relationship with X, a relationship that X values. X nonetheless has sex with Z (and enjoys it). This satisfies the conditions for a supererogatory act, but it is doubtful that X performs one. The presence of sexual desire and the prospect of sexual pleasure lower the degree of the supererogation, if not entirely nullifying it. This is not parallel to other cases of supererogation, in which no additional motive to wanting to help someone exists. In X's case, X intends to benefit Z but also to derive pleasure from the sexual act. This might affect its supererogatory status.

Thus, risk to the agent might not be sufficient; perhaps the agent must also lack the sexual desire for the action or find it undesirable. The degree of supererogation increases in direct proportion to that of undesirability. As awful as it sounds, this fits with the type of cases that would come to mind in thinking of supererogation: sex with the least physically desirable. But there is room for subjectivity: a young gay man not attracted to other young men would find sex with them undesirable, so having sex with one out of kindness would be supererogatory in his case.

Is sexual activity like any other activity in that the same moral rules apply to it?

[N]o conduct otherwise immoral should be excused because it is sexual conduct, and nothing in sex is immoral unless condemned by rules which apply elsewhere as well. (Goldman 1977: 280)

This is true at a general level because the same general moral features (e.g., harm) affect sexual acts. But it might be false at more specific levels: sexual violation of the body by a penis or an object makes the violation distinct. This has to do with how one experiences sexual bodily violations, thereby making sexual consent a crucial moral aspect of sexual relations (Wertheimer 2003: 107-112). Moreover, if Kant is right, the objectifying nature of sexual desire makes it unique. If virtue ethicists are right, actions can be right and wrong because they are sexually temperate and intemperate: seducing the ex-boss's husband is vengeful or intemperate, depending on the motive (Carr 2007; Halwani 2018a, 2018b; Piers 1999). The specialness of sex might be explained by sexual desire's rootedness in biology and its being directed at the bodies of other human beings (Dent 1984: ch. 2 and passim).

2.2.1 Consent

Consent is crucial because (a) it transforms an otherwise wrong act into a permissible one (though not necessarily to a good act); (b) in heterosexual sex, men and women might importantly differ when it comes to sex; and (c) sexual violation is typically experienced as very harmful (Wertheimer 2003: 119-121).

There is general consensus among philosophers that valid or genuine consent (henceforth "consent") by all the parties to a sex act is necessary and sufficient for the moral permissibility of the sex act (Archard 1998; Mappes 1987; Miller & Wertheimer 2010; Primoratz 2001; Wertheimer 2003; but see Pateman 1988), though what valid consent consists of is an intricate issue (to which Wertheimer 2003 is dedicated). Yet the sufficiency of consent can be questioned. If, for example, sexual desire by nature objectifies, as the Kantian view has it, then the consent of the parties is insufficient-they consent to a wrong action (see below).

Another reason to reject consent's sufficiency stems from some conceptions of what marital sex is. The theory of New Natural Law considers only marital sex-which it understands as referring to sex acts between married partners who do it from the specific motive of the good of marriage (what this means, though, is unclear)-is morally permissible (even good). The main reasons are the theory's view of marriage, which, following Thomas Aquinas, is understood as a basic good, and the view of marital sexual acts as reproductive and unitive, as two-in-one flesh communions. Thus, although consent to the sexual act is necessary, it is not sufficient: the sex has to be done from the motive of the good of marriage (Finnis 1993; George 2003; George & Bradley 1995; Lee & George 1997).

Two prominent objections to the New Natural Law view are (1) that the view of marriage is both undefended and implausible: the connection between reproduction or biological two-in-one union and the morality of sex is unclear, and (2) that it is unclear why other goods (sexual pleasure) are ruled out as basic (Koppelman 2008; see also Biggar & Black 2000).

New Natural Law is a version of any type of view that limits the morality of sexual acts to specific domains. In addition to marriage, love is another such domain. A view confining sex to love need not insist also on marriage, on only two love partners, or that they be of different sex/gender. It requires only the presence of love. Other versions require only affection or a mutually respectful relationship (Hampton 1999; Nussbaum 1995). On such views, consensual casual sex between two strangers is impermissible.

But why must such factors be present for the permissibility of sex? One prominent reason is that sex is somehow morally dangerous, so something is needed to minimize from or erode this danger. Sex might make us treat our sexual partners as objects, and the power of sex might make us engage in sex with the wrong people, in the wrong circumstances, etc. Love or a respectful relationship minimizes these risks (Nussbaum 1995: 227-231).

But if sex is objectifying, love or a respectful relationship might not prevent this objectification; lovers or partners to a relationship end up objectifying each other (Soble 2017b: 304-309). Moreover, if sex is so powerful or mind-numbing, being in a relationship might not make this power any less effective: partners soon start eyeing people outside the relationship. The argument must assume that being in a relationship turns off sexual desire for other people. This is implausible, however, given that in long-term relationships "bedroom death" might eventually set in. There is also the thought that relationships do not escape the power of desire: people often have sex with each other prior to initiating a relationship.

A second type of reason against the sufficiency of consent is harm. Setting aside harm to third parties, if sexual activity leads to harm to one or more of its parties, then consent is not sufficient. This view might be plausible especially when it comes to women, given that many women engage in consensual sex but motivated by nonsexual desires, such as not wanting to put their partner in a foul mood. The harm is psychological, especially to their autonomy (West 1995). This implies that prostitutes are harmed women because of their consent to undesired sex, an implausible implication. However, even if specific formulations of the view are implausible (such as West's; see Soble 1996: 37-39, Wertheimer 2003: passim), this does not negate the claim that if sexual activity harms one or more of the consenting parties, the activity is wrong. Put this way, the argument sounds plausible: there is no good reason to deny that harmful sexual acts are wrong in that respect. One might object that this argument is paternalistic, telling people not to engage in sex when the sex is harmful (Soble 1996: 37-39). This objection is true in that harmful sex gives the participants a reason to not engage in it, although it cannot be used to argue that social or legal forces should prevent this action (Wertheimer 2003: 130-131).

A third type of reason relies on virtues and vices. Consider the following examples.

(1) A student offers their teacher sex for a high grade (the teacher consents).

(2) A guy has sex with another guy during a wake (neither is directly related to the dead person).

(3) Lisa hates yet desires Nancy; she wants to sexually humiliate her; Nancy knows this but desires Lisa, and she does not care. They have sex during which Lisa heaps verbal abuse on the trembling-with-desire Nancy.

(4) Omar is a handsome gay man who loves having sex with many guys to feed his ego. At the end of the day, all spent, he agrees to a seventh hookup because the guy is a catch. He tells the guy, "You are my seventh today, so I might not be very energetic". The guy says, "This is actually a turn-on".

(5) Isabel has undesired sex with her boyfriend so as not to deal with his foul mood (he is not abusive, but accustomed to getting his way), even though she knows that she need not agree to sex every time he wants it.

Each case has universal participant consent, yet each sexual act is wrong in some aspect (though not all are seriously wrong) because it exhibits a vice: unprofessional, intemperate, malicious (and possibly cruel and demeaning; cf. Morgan 2003a), vain, and cowardly, respectively. Once again consent is not sufficient for the act's goodness, though perhaps it is for its permissibility (depending on the seriousness of the harm or vice).

The necessity of consent is often taken for granted by philosophers. But this can be questioned. For instance, viewing sexual activity and pleasure as casual might render consent unnecessary in some cases (Benatar 2002). On the "casual view" of sexual pleasure, sexual pleasure is like other pleasures and may be enjoyed like them, subject to the usual moral constraints. If so, liberals are correct to defend promiscuity and casual sex as morally permissible, but might be unable to explain the wrongness of pedophilia or the special wrongness of rape, because if sexual pleasure is casual it would be difficult to see why pedophilia is wrong, and why the wrongness of rape is as bad as we think it is; perhaps it would be as bad as forcing "somebody to eat something" (Benatar 2002: 196). Arguing that children cannot consent to sex, so pedophilia is wrong, assumes that sexual pleasure is serious, otherwise children's consent would not be necessary. Indeed, a parent might want to instill in their child the ability to be sexually experienced, so might coerce the child into sex on occasion, much like parents coerce their children into activities deemed good for them (Benatar 2002: 195-196). Thus, consent might not always be necessary. Briefly put, if sexual activity is trivial, sexual consent would not be important (or as important as we think).

Since we do consider sex to be important (imagine claiming that incest or sex with animals is "cool" because sex is trivial), the casual view of sex must be wrong. But then promiscuity and casual sex cannot be easily defended on liberal grounds, and a significance view of sex-that sex is a serious matter-is correct (Benatar 2002: 191-192). Thus, if the liberal is to accept the significance view of sex, she must shield casual sex and promiscuity from moral censor.

One strategy is to argue that sex is significant in that it involves one's most important private space: one's body. Suppose that X is a social person, always happy to have guests over at X's house. One day, X discovers that some people have entered her apartment and used it to entertain themselves. X feels justifiably violated, indicating that the violation of private spaces is a serious wrong. If this is true of an apartment, it is truer of one's body, especially since sexual violation usually involves the insertion of something in the body. This explains why sexual violations are experienced as deeply traumatic (Wertheimer 2003: ch.5). Sex is significant because it involves the involvement one's most important and private space (cf. Brogaard 2015: 188-190).

Another strategy is to reject a single view of sexual pleasure as either casual or significant and argue that, depending on between whom the pleasure occurs, it might or might not be casual.

But even if (or when) sex is significant, it does not follow that it must be experienced only in the context of love, deep affection, etc. What follows instead is that consent is necessary. Thus, sex may be casual or promiscuous, as long as consent is secured.

2.2.2 Objectification

Objectification is a perennial issue in the philosophy of sex. It originates in Kant's moral philosophy, and many feminists have adopted its language to criticize, for example, pornography, though whereas Kant was concerned with the objectifying nature of sexual desire, feminists do not target sex as such, but only in the context of patriarchy, claiming that it involves the sexual objectification of women by men in certain contexts (see below; some claim that all heterosexual sex is poison under patriarchy, e.g., Dworkin 1987). Indeed, sexual desire might not be necessary for the claim that a woman is sexually objectified under patriarchy: a man need not sexually desire a woman to catcall her.

Sexual objectification is treating or considering a person only as a sex object. Casual sex, watching pornography, catcalling, ogling, and other examples all allegedly involve sexual objectification. The "only" is important because otherwise there is no basis for moral complaint given that we frequently treat each other as objects. It is unclear whether objectification can consist of mere mental regard or whether it must have a treatment component (ogling someone is interesting because it is unclear whether it is treatment or mere regard). Some philosophers (Papadaki 2017; Langton 2009; Nussbaum 1995) define "sexual objectification" broadly enough to include mere regard (others, e.g., LeMoncheck [1985: ch. 1] do not). The inclusion of regard is wise because objectification seems to involve mere attitudes and perceptions (e.g., ogling, the regard found in watching pornography). X then sexually objectifies Y if, and only if, X treats or regardsY only as a sexual object.

The importance of objectification stems from a view of human beings as more than objects (LeMoncheck 1985: ch. 1; Papadaki 2017). If human beings, regardless of individual merit, have elevated moral status in virtue of having rationality, dignity, autonomy, or some such property, reducing someone to a lower level is wrong. But how common the actual occurrence of sexual objectification and how serious it is, are additional questions. It seems rare to treat our sexual partners as mere objects in any obvious and troubling ways: not only are we aware of their humanity, we are also attentive to it. Indeed, among the various ways of objectification-instrumentality, denial of autonomy, inertness, fungibility, violability, ownership, and denial of subjectivity (this is Nussbaum's list [1995: 257]; cf. Langton 2009: 228-229)-only instrumentality is common. Others, such ownership and denial of subjectivity, seem rare (Halwani 2017a). Clear cases of sexual objectification include sexually-motivated rape and catcalling.

The Kantian view is that sexual desire objectifies by its nature and makes it impossible for the sexual partners to satisfy the Categorical Imperative. Equally problematic on this view is X objectifying him or herself-more accurately, allowing him or herself to be objectified by Y. Indeed, self-objectification is what makes the view particularly Kantian (Soble 2017b: 313). It also marks another difference with feminists' understanding of objectification.

Sexual desire objectifies by its nature because when X sexually desires Y, X desires Y's body and body parts, especially the sexual ones, making it hard, if not impossible, to treat the humanity in Y as an end (Kant 1930 [1963: 164]). Only sexual desire among our inclinations is directed at human beings as such, not "their work and services" (Kant 1930 [1963: 163]). Although it is morally permissible to use each other for all sorts of purposes as long as they involve our "work and services", sexual interactions are different. In almost every interaction with each other, we are interested in some ability, talent, or service that another can perform, an aspect intimately connected to their rationality. In these cases, either X does not desire Y's body (but Y's abilities, talents, or services) or X desires it but in service to Y's abilities. Only with sexual desire (and, Kant says, in the rare case of cannibalism; 1930 [1963: 162-63]) does X desire Y as a body, as an object. X wants to enjoy Y herself, not her beautiful voice, her massaging abilities, etc. And if X desires Y's abilities, it is in service to Y's physicality. Sexual desire renders people objects by reversing our normal relationship with their bodies. Their bodies become the objects, not the instruments, of our attention. Kant thought that only marriage can make objectification tolerable, though his argument is implausible (Kant 1930 [1963: 163]; see Soble 2013b, 2017b; Denis 2001; Wertheimer 2003: 130-135).

Consent is thus not sufficient for permissible sex because consenting to sex is consenting to objectification, to something wrong (Soble 2017b: 303-304). Kant's view indicates also why including regard in a definition of "sexual objectification" is plausible: even though X and Y treat each other well during sex, they still regard each other as mere sex objects.

The phenomenology of sexual desire seems to confirm Kant's point: The "other's body, his or her lips, thighs, buttocks, and toes, are desired as the arousing parts they are, distinct from the person" (Soble 2013b: 302). During a good sexual act, even with one's lover, at some point they focus on ass, cock, pussy, tits, etc. (Vannoy 1980: 14). Kant's view that sexual desire and activity are different-perhaps even unique-from other ways we view and interact with other people seems correct, providing support for the conclusion that sexual desire objectifies.

Sexual desire seems also powerful: its pull is strong and its voice loud, insisting, and persistent, so much so that people do irrational and immoral things to satisfy it. This might be a gendered feature of sexual desire, truer more of men than of women, though throughout history, and in today's popular culture especially, women have often been portrayed as sexually insatiable (see Anderson & Struckman-Johnson 1998; Soble 2008: ch. 10). Of course, sexual partners normally observe limits on how they treat each other: they do not violate each other, treat each other literally as objects, and so on, exactly because they understand that they may not treat people in such ways. Thus, sexual desire operates within moral red lines.

The Kantian problem of objectification cannot be easily solved. Arguing that there is no objectification because human beings have no special moral status from which they can be lowered (Soble 2002: 53-63) does not meet Kant on his own grounds (as Soble insists in 2017b). Claiming that parties to the sexual act normally consent to it (Mappes 1987), that objectification is okay as long as the relationship is respectful (Nussbaum 1995: esp. 227-231), or that sexual partners attend to each other's sexual needs (Goldman 1977: 282-283; Singer 1984: 382) also do not solve the problem because none addresses the nature of sexual desire (Soble 2017b).

Two other options are to accept the problem as a problem (but perhaps minimize it; Halwani 2017a) or to argue that sexual desire among human beings is not always objectifying. This is not merely the idea, insisted on by the intentional view, that sexual desire in human beings is complex, because a Kantian view of sex can accommodate this point, but that

there is far more to sex than the desire to use another's body in a degrading manner for your selfish pleasure. Even the elements in sexual desire closest to this are combined, at least in healthy people, with other elements of human emotion that radically transform their meaning. (Wood 2008: 227)

Kant's view, however, can also accommodate this insight. For example, X might sexually desire Y because Y is, among other things, a kind person, such that X would not have desired Y otherwise. But once X desires Y, X desires Y 's body and body parts. Sexual desire can be selfish while layered in other elements of human emotions, and the Kantian view need not be confined to a simplistic view of sexual desire such that it is crassly selfish or always acted on in a degrading "manner"; Kantian sex can be attentive to the other's needs.

Nonetheless, the above idea that sexual desire can be combined with healthy emotions makes it possible that sexual desire is not always toxic, though how remains unclear. To succeed, sexual desire needs to be injected with healthy emotions, and not merely added to them, so that its nature changes on particular occasions.

On the Kantian view, not all sexual activity is objectifying: any sexual activity not stemming from sexual desire might not be objectifying. Even in those cases when sexual activity is objectifying, its seriousness varies: in consensual encounters it is drowned by other moral factors, whereas in (sexually motivated) rape it is very serious as sexual desire is the primary motive. (The motive is not to sexually objectify someone, as this is rare; instead, X regards Y in a way that is sexually objectifying.)

Moreover, it is unclear how sexual objectification differs between men and women, especially if men and women experience sex differently. Men experience sexual desire more frequently and insistently than women, though both are similar in their enjoyment of sexual activity (Ogas and Gaddam 2001: chs. 3 and 4; Symons 1979: 179; Wertheimer 2003: 38-46). Thus men might engage in more sexual objectification than do women given that men think about sex more, ogle others more, and are more easily turned on visually. Since during sexual activity both would sexually objectify each other roughly equally, men would sexually objectify women overall more than women would men. Men also consume pornography (straight and gay) far more than women do, so would engage in much more sexual objectification than do women (by viewing people on-screen, by viewing people as mere sexual objects, etc.). It is perhaps in this sense that pornography allows women (and men, as objects of other men's desire) to be objectified, not so much in the feminist sense, as I'll explain next.

Some feminists have argued that pornography objectifies women by dehumanizing them, and it dehumanizes them by depicting them as mere sexual instruments for men (Hill 1987), by depicting their pleasure as only for the men's (Longino 1980), by endorsing this treatment (Longino 1980; Eaton 2007), or by sending the message that all women are like this (Garry 1978). But these claims seem unconvincing. Pornography shows both men and women sexually enjoying each other, and it is difficult to prove that women's pleasure is depicted as merely for the men's (one might as well argue for the reverse) because the scenes themselves do not tell us anything (Soble 2002: 19-20, 28, 98, 196; 1996: 225-227). Nor does pornography seem to send messages about the status of women, whether about the depicted women or women in general. Doing so disables the viewer's ability to imagine the scenes as he wants, thereby undermining its own purposes of titillating him (Soble 1996: 231-234). But pornography enables the sexual objectification of women by displaying them to the gaze of the male viewer (ditto for men in pornography, albeit the gay gaze). This form of objectification seems innocuous, as long as it is not implicated in harm towards women, either individually or as a class (Gruen 2006; see also Eaton 2007).

A deeper form of objectification is found in the view that pornography constructs women's sexuality in a bad way (MacKinnon 1993; Dworkin 1974, 1979). It eroticizes patriarchal ways of viewing women, so that sexual desire becomes infused with dominance (cf. Morgan 2003a: 388-390). The sexual desires of young men who routinely consume pornography become desires for the sexual domination of women. Women become socially constructed sexual beings for men, such that men desire them as pornography depicts them-as non-real beings: "objectification comes to define femininity, and one-sidedness comes to define mutuality" (MacKinnon 1993: 26; see Mason-Grant 2004). This view, however, implausibly neglects sexual desire's biology, assuming that sexual desire can be fully socially constructed. Moreover, insofar as it is an empirical view, no proper evidence has been marshalled in its support (Diorio 2006; Tarrant 2014).

Sexual desire, as we have seen, is sufficient for objectification. However, it is not necessary. The guy catcalling a woman to feel part of the group is an example, and so are pornography directors and editors, who, by choosing the angle of the camera and the footage cuts, help sexually objectify the performers by presenting them to the viewer in particular ways; similar reasoning applies to, say, brothel owners. Indeed, women themselves might have few options other than to sexually objectify themselves, in a society that values women mostly through their sexuality (Jütten 2016). This might be the most pernicious form of sexual objectification in that social forces direct or pressure (not necessarily force) women to adopt such self-identifications or self-presentations to lead better lives, though whether they are actually flourishing is harder to gauge.

Recently, the concept of "derivatization" has been used to examine sex and sexual practices (Parker 2017; Wolf 2016).

To derivatize something is to portray, render, understand, or approach a being solely or primarily as the reflection, projection, or expression of another being's identity, desires, fears, etc. The derivatized subject becomes reducible in all relevant ways to the derivatizing subject's existence. (Cahill 2011: 32; see also 2013)

This view might capture some central feminist problems with pornography, namely, the depiction of women's sexuality as reflecting men's sexual desires of women. "Derivatization" might also be a more accurate concept than "objectification" because the latter relies on a mistaken view of human beings (that we are autonomous and non-bodily), whereas the former is based on a relational view of human beings (Cahill 2013).

The importance of "derivatization" notwithstanding, the above reasons do not clinch the case for its replacement of "objectification" because "objectification" need not assume that human beings are non-bodily and autonomous; it can accept them as enmeshed in this world as they are (with varying degrees of autonomy). Moreover, "derivatization" seems not to cover all cases (or all cases well). Consider a closeted gay man who catcalls a woman only to impress his peers. He objectifies her but does not seem derivatize her. If the reply is that he catcalls that particular woman because she represents not his desires but, say, society's desires of what women should look like, then, given that for any sexual situation one can attribute derivatization to some party or other, "derivatization" stands in danger of being empty or too broad to be explanatory.

2.3 Sexual Perversion

The most famous contemporary philosophical account is Thomas Nagel's psychologically-based view of sexual perversion. "Natural" sexual desire involves a multi-leveled mutual awareness by two people of each other: X perceives sexual excitement in Y, Y perceives excitement in X, X perceives that Y is excited by X, and so on (1969: 10-12). Sexual desire is complex in that it includes X's sexual arousal by Y and X's feeling sexual because of Y's arousal by X, and so on with higher levels. Sexual perversions are then standing preferences for sexual activity that does not involve such multi-levels of sexual arousal. Since this view locates naturalness and perversion in the agent's preferences, the sexual act itself need not mirror this structure; only the desires need have this complexity. Thus, it is inaccurate to accuse it of being sexless (Solomon 1974: 336) or to evaluate it by giving examples of non-complex sexual acts (Kupfer 2016: 333).

Although this view accommodates some perversions, such as zoophilia, pedophilia, and "intercourse with ... inanimate objects" because they "seem to be stuck at some primitive version of the first stage of sexual feeling" (Nagel 1969: 14), it yields counter-intuitive results: masturbation does not fare well on this view, depending on whether it insists on the perception of the actual (not imaginative) embodiment of desire in another person (Soble 2013a: 85-87). It also misunderstands how perversions usually work: a coprophiliac does not normally desire sex with feces, but to incorporate feces in his sexual act with another, which could involve multi-levels of perception. Moreover, the account does not capture common intuitions about natural and perverted sex: it goes beyond the plausible idea that the arousal of one partner increases the other's, to that of multi-layered arousal-an unintuitive idea. Similar views rely on the idea that natural sexual desire is interpersonal, such as that it culminates in love (Scruton 1986: ch. 10) and that it communicates attitudes and feelings (Solomon 1974; see Halwani 2018b: ch. 9 for discussion).

A non-psychological account of sexual perversion, one closer to folk biology, claims that only reproduction allows us to distinguish perversions from non-perversions (Ruddick 1984: 287; cf. Gray 1978). This does not mean that every act has to be reproductive, only that natural sexual desires " could lead to reproduction in normal physiological circumstances" (Ruddick 1984: 288). Thus, a heterosexual couple having intercourse but not intending to procreate are not engaging in perverted sex: their desire is of the kind that, under "normal physiological circumstances", could lead to reproduction (1984: 288).

The account might have implausible implications, however. Anyone who prefers (heterosexual) oral sex to intercourse would be perverted. Moreover, any heterosexual couple that incorporate fetish objects, urine, feces, and so on, in their sexual intercourse would be sexually natural (Gray 1978: 190-192; Primoratz 1999: 53-54). Indeed, coprophilia can sink all the above accounts: two people who exhibit inter-personal attitudes in the form of multi-level perceptions, and who have sexual intercourse of the reproductive type, communicating healthy emotions sincerely, yet use feces in their activity would counter-intuitively not be perverted on any of the above accounts.

Even though explaining perversion in terms of biology seems obvious, "perversion" is opposed not only to "natural", but also to "normal", and the natural and the normal do not fully overlap. Moreover, the concept of "perversion" could refer to many things: the immoral, disgusting, bizarre, and biologically abnormal, among others. Using only one of these to define "perversion" will probably fail. It might also be that the methodology of discussing this concept is flawed, failing to account for the concept's social function (Miller 2010). Thus, some philosophers have proposed to get rid of the concept altogether (Priest 1997; Primoratz 1999: ch. 6; Ruse 1988: 197-201). Recently, however, a new account of it in terms of its inhibiting "shared joy, mutual exploration, self-affirmation, and union" was offered (Kupfer 2016: 351). But this view seems to set the bar too high for what counts as non-perverted.

A good account of perversion might have to be prescriptive, capturing the core of perversion but not necessarily capturing all our beliefs about it (it should explain why our beliefs are mistaken when they are). Furthermore, it will likely be a psychological account, a preference to have sex with or involving certain types of object that are anti-life, such as bodily waste and corpses, and that are biologically odd, such as inter-species sexual intercourse. Evolutionary biology and evolutionary psychology would have to play crucial roles.

3. The Value of Sex

What is the value of sex? How important (or valuable!) is this value? Procreation, love, and pleasure (as types, not tokens) are obvious answers to the first question. Sex is usually the way to procreate, so sex is valuable insofar as procreation is valuable. But this value is instrumental, and it is contingent given technology's ability to separate procreation from sex. There is also anti-natalism (Schopenhauer 1851, 1859: ch. 46; Benatar 2006, 2015), which implies that sex has negative value in its procreative aspect. The value of sex in regards to procreation is thus precarious.

Another instrumental value of sex is that X's sexual desire for Y can (help) cause X to love Y (Bertocci 1949: ch. 2). Here, sex's value is contingent on love's, and, despite sounding strange, the value of romantic love, especially in its early, passionate stages, is not obvious given its negative effects on the lover and others. Still, if sex leads to the settled stage of love (via the passionate one), it is valuable for that. Sex can also express love and affection for one's partner and cement their relationship (McKeever 2017, but see Vannoy 1980: ch. 1). But even if true, all this still makes sex's value depend on and instrumental to love's, especially since the two are very different (Goldman 1977: 272-275; Soble 2008: ch. 9 [which adds marriage to the mix]; Vannoy 1980: 7-12).

Does sex have intrinsic value? If it does, it is probably sexual pleasure, as-sensation or as-enjoyment, a pleasure that provides people with the main motive for having sex, often with drastic consequences. So then how valuable is the pleasure of sex? Perhaps we should regard our appetite for sex like we do that for food to avoid obsessing about it (Russell 1929 [1970: 289]). But can we go further?

People spend much time pursuing projects and activities they enjoy or consider worthwhile. Some do only when time, work, or family time permit, and some do much of the time (they are, say, independently wealthy). Writing, pursuing Hollywood or Bollywood stardom, playing chess, swimming, traveling, and, of course, building a family are examples. Other than philosophical far-fetched examples of worthless pursuits (counting blades of grass, collecting bottle caps), most projects and activities have some worth, unless we wish to condemn most human beings of having worthless lives. Perhaps some projects are more worthwhile than others (though how to argue for this is not easy), but almost all have some worth, and an intellectual one at that, including watching reality television or reading junk fiction (Carroll 1998: esp. ch. 1 and 2).

Now consider X, whose life project is the pursuit of sexual pleasures. X says,

I am young, moderately good-looking, and, with current technology (e.g., phone apps), I can easily sexually hook up with others. I enjoy sex, and it makes me feel good. In between bouts of sex, I can see friends, go to the gym, movies, whatever. But my deepest enjoyment-my life-plan, to use philosophical jargon-is to pursue the pleasures of sex.

Is there something we can say to prove X wrong, especially if X has the talent for something considered more important? Perhaps we can claim that pursuing sex is not as worthy as reading Russian literature, but even here we are on insecure ground.

One can argue that X is not using X's intellectual powers. But this underestimates the reliance on intellect in sexual pursuits or presumes that such use is unimportant. Alternatively, one can argue that X is not using X's intellectual powers deeply or in a theoretical way. But this would rule out many a life as good. One can argue that there are more important things in life than pursuing sexual pleasure. But X need not live without friends, family, and other important things present in normal lives. One can argue that sex objectifies, so it is wrong to make it central to one's life. But unless one were a die-hard Kantian, the objectification involved in sex can be redeemed by other factors.

One can argue that sexual sensory pleasure "will not be at the center of a rational life plan", and that these pleasures are "intermittent and short-lived", their value ultimately depending "entirely on the interpersonal relationships into which they fit and which constitute their context" (Goldman 2016: 98). But it is not clear why the pleasures' brevity and intermittency are problems. One can argue that someone who prefers masturbation to sex with others "could reflect a failure to understand the importance and value of sex and sexual pleasure" (Scanlon 1998: 175) because the importance of sex is its expression in relations with other people (Scanlon seems not to have in mind casual or promiscuous sex). But X can have affectionate sexual relationships with others, and friendships, etc., with different others. Even casual hookups have their bonding aspects. Finally, one can argue that sex "achieves a level of passion" with "no equal in other forms of interaction", and such that when it occurs between lovers

it defines a most significant moment of goodness between two people, where each achieves a most profound moment of affirmation and satisfaction that is inextricably tied to the endeavor to please the other. (Thomas 1999: 59)

But note how the affirmation and satisfaction here can as easily apply to passionate yet love-less sex.

Thus, even if pursuing sexual pleasure is not as intellectually stimulating as reading classical Arabic poetry, it is not worthless, whether intellectually or non-intellectually, and it is on a par with many other pursuits that people undertake that are far from having intellectual depth. Moreover,

[I]sn't being a provider of sexual pleasure an important and valuable attribute, one to be cherished? Maybe we should construct a theory of human dignity based on our sexual capacities ... instead of looking for something 'finer' beyond or above the sexual. (Soble 2002: 58-59)

If X conducts X's life morally, and if X develops some talents or hobbies for those rainy days (sure to come) when X is no longer sexually desirable and X's friends are busy with other things, we can say to X, "Enjoy!"

Bibliography

Abbreviations for Classic Anthologies

The following anthologies are crucial resources for someone studying the field of the philosophy of sex. The following abbreviations were used above.

DLI: Desire, Love, and Identity: Philosophy of Sex and Love, Gary Foster (ed.), Don Mills, Ontario: Oxford University Press, 2017.

PoS: The Philosophy of Sex: Contemporary Readings, Savage, MD: Rowman & Littlefield.

PoS2: second edition, Alan Soble (ed.), 1981.

PoS3: third edition, Alan Soble (ed.), 1997.

PoS4: fourth edition, Alan Soble (ed.), 2003.

PoS5: fifth edition, Alan Soble and Nicholas Power (eds), 2008.

PoS6: sixth edition, Nicholas Power, Raja Halwani, and Alan Soble (eds), 2013.

PoS7: seventh edition, Alan Soble, Raja Halwani, Jacob Held, and Sarah Hoffman (eds), 2017.

PPSL: Philosophical Perspectives on Sex & Love, Robert M. Stewart (ed.), New York and Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1995.

PSL: Philosophy: Sex and Love, James M. Petrik and Arthur Zucker (eds), Farmington Hills, MI: Macmillan Reference USA, 2016.

PSLR: Philosophy of Sex and Love: A Reader, Robert Trevas, Arthur Zucker, and Donald M. Borchert (eds), Upper Saddle River, NJ: Prentice Hall, 1997.

PS: Philosophy and Sex, Buffalo, NY: Prometheus Books.

PS2: second edition, Robert Baker and Frederick A. Elliston (eds), 1984.

PS3: third edition, Robert Baker, Kathleen J. Wininger, and Frederick A. Elliston (eds), 1998.

PS4: fourth edition, Robert Baker and Kathleen J. Wininger (eds), Amherst, NY: Prometheus Books, 2009.

SE: Sex and Ethics: Essays on Sexuality, Virtue, and the Good Life, Raja Halwani (ed.), Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan, 2007.

SPP: Sex from Plato to Paglia: A Philosophical Encyclopedia, Alan Soble (ed.), Westport, CT: Greenwood Press, 2006.

SPP1: volume 1

SPP2: volume 2

Secondary Literature

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Appiah, Kwame Anthony, 2005, The Ethics of Identity, Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press.

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---, 1265-1274, Summa theologia, 60 vols., Blackfriars, 1964-1976.

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Aristotle, 1999, Nicomachean Ethics, Terence Irwin (trans.), Indianapolis, IN: Hackett.

Augustine, 419-420, On Marriage and Concupiscence, Peter Holmes (trans.), London: Aeterna Press, 2014.

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Beardsley, Monroe, 1982, The Aesthetic Point of View: Selected Essays, Michael J. Wreen and Donald M. Callen (eds), Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press.

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---, 2006, Better Never to Have Been: The Harm of Coming into Existence, Oxford: Oxford University Press. doi:10.1093/acprof:oso/9780199296422.001.0001

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Bertocci, Peter A., 1949, The Human Venture in Sex, Love, and Marriage, New York: Association Press.

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Brogaard, Berit, 2015, On Romantic Love: Simple Truths about a Complex Emotion, Oxford: Oxford University Press.

Buss, David M., 2016, The Evolution of Desire: Strategies of Human Mating, revised edition, New York: Basic Books.

Cahill, Ann J., 2011, Overcoming Objectification: A Carnal Ethics, New York: Routledge.

---, 2013, "Why 'Derivatization' Is Better than 'Objectification'", in PoS6: 335-357.

Card, Claudia, 1995, "Choosing Lesbianism", in Lesbian Choices, New York: Columbia University Press, 47-57.

Carr, David, 2007, "On the Prospect of Chastity as a Contemporary Virtue", in SE: 89-100.

Carroll, Noël, 1998, A Philosophy of Mass Art, Oxford: Clarendon Press.

Corvino, John (ed.), 1997, Same Sex: Debating the Ethics, Science, and Culture of Homosexuality, Lanham, MD: Rowman & Littlefield.

---, 2006a, "Orientation, Sexual", in SPP2: 728-731.

---, 2006b, "Social Constructionism", in SPP2: 1026-1033.

De Cecco, John, 1981, "Definition and Meaning of Sexual Orientation", Journal of Homosexuality, 6(4): 51-67.

Dembroff, Robin, 2017, "What Is Sexual Orientation?" in PoS7: 221-240.

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Díaz-León, Esa, forthcoming, "Sexual Orientations: The Desire View", in Feminist Philosophy of Mind, Jennifer McWeeny and K. Maitra (eds), New York: Oxford University Press.

Diorio, Joseph, 2006, "MacKinnon, Catharine", in SPP2: 621-632.

Dworkin, Andrea, 1974, Woman Hating, New York: Penguin.

---, 1979, Pornography: Men Possessing Women, New York: Penguin.

---, 1987, Intercourse, New York: Free Press.

Eaton, A. W., 2007, "A Sensible Anti-Porn Feminism", Ethics, 117(4): 674-715. doi:10.1086/519226

Finnis, John, 1993, "The Wrong of Homosexuality", The New Republic, November 15, 1993, 12-13; reprinted in PoS5, 135-140.

Foucault, Michel, 1976, The History of Sexuality: An Introduction (Volume 1), R. Hurley (trans.), New York: Vintage, 1990.

Freud, Sigmund, 1905, Three Essays on the Theory of Sexuality, J. Strachey (trans. and rev.), New York: Basic Books, 1962.

Garry, Ann, 1978, "Pornography and Respect for Women", Social Theory and Practice, 4(4): 395-421. Reprinted in PSLR: 314-22; PS2: 312-26; revised version published as "Sex, Lies, and Pornography", inEthics in Practice, second edition, Hugh La Follette (ed.), Malden, MA: Blackwell, 2001, 344-355. doi:10.5840/soctheorpract1978446

George, Robert P., 2003, "Neutrality, Equality, and 'Same-Sex Marriage'", in Marriage and Same-Sex Unions: A Debate, Lynn D. Wardle, Mark Strasser, William C. Duncan, and David Orgon Coolidge (eds), Westport, CT: Praeger, 119-131.

George, Robert P. and Gerard V. Bradley, 1995, "Marriage and the Liberal Imagination", The Georgetown Law Journal, 84: 301-320. [George & Bradley 1995 available online]

Giles, James, 2008, The Nature of Sexual Desire, Lanham, MD: University Press of America.

Goldman, Alan H., 1977, "Plain Sex", Philosophy and Public Affairs, 6(3): 267-287. Reprinted in PoS2: 73-92; PoS3: 39-55; PoS4: 39-55; PoS5: 55-73; PoS6: 57-75; PoS7: 53-71.

---, 2016, "Pleasure", in PSL: 79-101.

Gray, Robert, 1978, "Sex and Sexual Perversion", Journal of Philosophy, 75(4): 189-199. Reprinted in PoS3: 57-66; PoS4: 57-66; PoS7: 73-84. doi:10.2307/2025658

Gruen, Lori, 2006, "Pornography", in SPP2, 811-824.

Halperin, David, 1990, One Hundred Years of Homosexuality and Other Essays on Greek Love, London: Routledge.

Halwani, Raja, 2003, Virtuous Liaisons: Care, Love, Sex, and Virtue Ethics, Chicago: Open Court.

---, 2006, "Prolegomena to Any Future Metaphysics of Sexual Identity: Recasting the Essentialism and Social Constructionism Debate", in Identity Politics Reconsidered, Linda Martin Alcoff, Michael Hames-Garcia, Satya P. Mohanty, and Paula M. L. Moya (eds.), Basingstoke, UK: Palgrave Macmillan, 209-227. doi:10.1057/9781403983398_14

---, 2017a, "Casual Sex, Promiscuity, and Objectification", in PoS7: 401-420. [Originally published as "On Fucking Around", in PoS6: 441-460.]

---, 2017b, "Racial Sexual Desires", in PoS7: 181-199.

---, 2018a, "Sexual Ethics", in The Oxford Handbook of Virtue, Nancy E. Snow (ed.), New York: Oxford University Press, 680-699.

---, 2018b, Philosophy of Love, Sex, and Marriage: An Introduction, second edition, New York: Routledge.

Hamilton, Christopher, 2001, Living Philosophy: Reflections on Life, Meaning, and Morality, Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press.

Hampton, Jean, 1999, "Defining Wrong and Defining Rape", in A Most Detestable Crime: New Philosophical Essays on Rape, Keith Burgess-Jackson (ed.), New York: Oxford University Press, 118-156.

Herman, Barbara, 1993, "Could It Be Worth Thinking about Kant on Sex and Marriage?" in A Mind of One's Own: Feminist Essays on Reason and Objectivity, Louise M. Antony and Charlotte Witt, Boulder, CO: Westview Press, 49-67.

Heyd, David, 2015, "Supererogation", The Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy (Spring 2016 edition), Edward N. Zalta (ed.), URL = <https://plato.stanford.edu/archives/spr2016/entries/supererogation/>.

Hill, Judith M., 1987, "Pornography and Degradation", Hypatia, 2(2): 39-54. doi:10.1111/j.1527-2001.1987.tb01064.x

Jacobsen, Rockney, 1993, "Arousal and the Ends of Desire", Philosophy and Phenomenological Research, 53(3): 617-632. doi:10.2307/2108083

---, 2006, "Desire, Sexual", in SPP1: 222-229.

---, 2017, "Objects of Desire", in DLI: 30-37.

Janssen, Diederik, 2007, "First Stirrings: Cultural Notes on Orgasm, Ejaculation, and Wet Dreams", Journal of Sex Research, 44(2): 122-134.

Jütten, Timo, 2016, "Sexual Objectification", Ethics, 127(1): 27-49. doi:10.1086/687331

Kant, Immanuel, 1797, The Metaphysics of Morals, M. Gregor (trans. & ed.), inThe Cambridge Edition of the Works of Immanuel Kant: Practical Philosophy, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1996.

---, 1930 [1963], Lectures on Ethics, translated by Louis Infield. Indianapolis, IN: Hackett, 1963.

Koppelman, Andrew, 2008, "Homosexuality and Infertility", in PoS5: 141-154.

Kupfer, Joseph, 2016, "Sexual Perversion", in PSL: 329-352.

Lance, Mark Norris and Alessandra Tanesini, 2000, "Identity Judgements, Queer Politics", Radical Philosophy, 100: 42-51. [Lance and Tanesini available online]

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Four broad lines of thought are prominent regarding sexual desire: (1) whether it is merely a biological drive or an intentional mental state; (2) how it should be defined; (3) whether it is benign or malignant; and (4) whether it admits of perverted forms. (I discuss (4) in the third section.)

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Desire is amazing! In my brainstorm about diamonds one of the words that popped up was desire. Reading this basic introduction got me to think that perhaps desire is living the fantasy with plenty of sensorial realness. If I desire a mango for instance, I can tap into how it tastes, feels, looks, the feeling of eating it.

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There is a simple, conservative theory of desire according to which having a desire is a matter of having dispositions to act. According to this theory, dispositions to act are the only essential feature of desires; the tendencies a person has to feel certain ways or think in certain ways when she has a desire are interesting but inessential tendencies. If Nora desires tea, this is because she is disposed to get herself some tea, and her dispositions to feel good about tea, think positively about getting tea, or to keep having her thoughts turn toward getting tea are merely associated effects of her desire. The simple, conservative theory has a number of competitors, each emphasizing something different from, or in addition to, dispositions to action.

In spite of the variety of theoretical options, the simple, conservative theory of desire-the action-based theory-is the most widely-held theory, making it the appropriate place to begin any discussion.

Consider a desire for a yellow mango. "The primitive sign of wanting," Anscombe writes, "is trying to get" (Anscombe 2000). Taking this thought to heart, one might hold that if Janet tries to get a yellow mango, then a yellow mango is what Janet desires. But Janet can desire a yellow mango even when she is not trying to get one (she might be struck by a craving while all out of mangoes, and not be willing to go shopping at that moment). So there is reason to want something more elaborate as a theory of desire. To deal with Janet, it might seem simplest to hold that desires dispose us to action, without always bringing it about that we act. Although Janet is not trying to get a mango, she is disposed to get one-and would, were it only more convenient to do so. This leads to a simple, action-based theory of desire.

For an organism to desire p is for the organism to be disposed to act so as to bring aboutp.

This sort of theory has been criticized for being insufficiently restrictive, because it appears to attribute desires to organisms on the basis of mere behavioral tics. For instance, if a woman has a tendency to stutter, then it follows from the theory above that she has a desire to stutter-simply because she is disposed to act so as to stutter. For such reasons, it is common to prefer a more sophisticated version of an action-based theory of desire.

For an organism to desire p is for the organism to be disposed to take whatever actions it believes are likely to bring aboutp.

According to this theory, for Janet to desire to have a yellow mango is just for her to be disposed to go to the fridge, or the store, or to ask her friend, or to do whatever else she believes likely to get her a yellow mango. She need not actually do any of these things, for she might desire to do something else even more, or might be asleep, or drugged, or otherwise prevented from doing the things she is disposed to do, but she must be (at least to some extent) disposed to do them all else being equal. Likewise, for John to desire that Janet love him is for John to be disposed to take whatever actions he believes are likely to make it the case that Janet loves him. And so on, for the various desires that people and other organisms are capable of having. Michael Smith has very clearly articulated this sort of theory of desire in a number of works (Smith 1987; 1994).

Like their less sophisticated counterparts, more sophisticated action-based theories of desire have been criticized for being insufficiently restrictive. Dennis Stampe points out that a person who believes that serving just so will cause him to double fault in tennis might thereby become disposed to serve just so and double fault (being nervous seems to have this effect quite often), but this would not show that such a person desires to double fault (Stampe 1986). And a number of philosophers have suggested that desires are only one psychological state able to initiate action, so that it is a mistake to identify desires with psychological states disposing us to actions. Some of these philosophers have focused on the negative point, that what might be called 'true desires' do not exhaust the possible motivational states (Davis 1986; Marks 1986). Others have focused on a positive alternative to desire as a motivating state, and these latter have tended to focus on the idea that a judgment of what is good (or obligatory) is at least one further psychological state that can lead to action, independently of antecedent desire. In both the case of desire and of belief in the good, being in such a state is being disposed to take whatever actions are believed likely to bring about what is desired or what is judged good. But according to these philosophers, desires and judgments of goodness are very different things. Hence action-based theories of desire fail to make an important distinction (e.g., McDowell 1978; Scanlon 1998).

An important variant of action-based theories of desire holds that desires are mental states that have the function of producing actions, rather than mental states that merely dispose agents to act. On these theories, a desire might or might not dispose an actor to satisfy the desire, but causing that result is the job or purpose of the desire (the biological function of the desire), or bringing about the satisfaction of the desire is how the action-production systems do their jobs or fulfill their purposes (Millikan 1984; Papineau 1987). While these variations do well with Stampe-type objections (because it is not the purpose of a belief that one is going to double fault to cause a double fault), they nonetheless would seem to be subject to objections by those who think that beliefs in the good can also perform their functions by moving one to act.

To overcome these latter objections, the action-based theorist may follow any of a number of lines of argument. The action-based theorist may argue that mere beliefs in goodness cannot move agents to act, given an independently motivated theory of belief in general (a position open to many philosophers of mind with complementary theories of belief and desire). Or he may argue that there is an incoherence in the principles by which one should revise a belief in goodness and by which one should revise one's dispositions to act (see the discussion of Lewis below in section 1.3), so that there is something incoherent in the idea of a belief in goodness that also moves one to act. Or, in a more concessive spirit, he may allow that the action-based theory of desire should be supplemented with other elements (dispositions to pleasure, for instance) not characteristic of beliefs in goodness.

One further difficulty for action-based theories of desire comes from apparent desires for things that action is ill-suited to bring about (evidence, that is, that the action-based theory of desire is excessively restrictive). For example, suppose it is possible for me to desire that pi be a rational number, or to desire that I had never been born, or to desire that a committee decide in my favor regardless of what I do (Schroeder 2004). These are desires that do not seem to exist in virtue of facts about dispositions to action, even facts about what actions I would perform if I were so foolish as to believe that I could fulfill my desires by actions. In response, the action-based theorist may hold that these attitudes are not true desires at all but only related conative attitudes: wishes, perhaps. A different line of response might be to hold that, even for such desires, dispositions to act still exist, even if they are unlikely to be acted upon in moderately reasonable people (Wall 2009).

As just suggested, philosophers who complain that an action-based theory of desire fails to distinguish judgments of goodness from desire sometimes suggest that pleasure is the key to this distinction. According to these philosophers, a person moved by a desire always enjoys what is desired, or eagerly anticipates the desire's satisfaction, whereas a person moved only by a judgment of goodness does not share these feelings (Schueler 1995; Vadas 1984; see also Davis 1986). Insofar as this seems right, there is reason to try out a theory of desire according to which dispositions to pleasure (and displeasure) are all there is to desire. Perhaps desires only contingently move us to action, but necessarily give rise to certain feelings. A simple version of this theory holds:

For an organism to desire p is for the organism to be disposed to take pleasure in it seeming thatp and displeasure in it seeming that not-p.

In addition to considerations in moral psychology, there are also reasons to prefer a pleasure-based theory of desire that stem from the philosophy of mind. Galen Strawson defends a pleasure-based theory on two grounds: first, Strawson holds that being a desire for anything (or being a belief about anything or otherwise exhibiting intentionality) requires consciousness, and pleasure and displeasure are the states of consciousness most closely linked to desire. And second, Strawson holds that it is conceivable that there be creatures who would lack dispositions to act but who would have dispositions to feelings of pleasure and displeasure, and that these creatures would seem to have desires for the things that would please them. These creatures might include actual human beings suffering from neurological injuries removing their dispositions to act, and they might include purely imaginary beings never born with capacities to act, just capacities to feel (Strawson 1994).

Carolyn Morillo has also defended a pleasure-based theory of desire, though on quite different grounds. Beginning on conceptual grounds, Morillo argues that desires are ontologically independent of action, because they are non-trivial explainers of action. And then on empirical (specifically, neuroscientific) grounds, Morillo argues that episodes of pleasure are identical to certain neural events (the release of dopamine by what is known as the 'reward system'), and these same neural events are the causal origin (in conjunction with belief) of action. Thus, episodes of pleasure play the role of desires, and so desires are episodes of pleasure (Morillo 1990).

A difficulty for pleasure-based theories of desire is that pleasure has seemed to some to have a causal or representational relationship to desire. According to these philosophers, net satisfaction of desire, or net increase in satisfaction of desire, is the standard cause of pleasure, and the pleasure caused perhaps represents this change in desire satisfaction. If such views are correct, then it seems desires must be ontologically distinct from pleasure in the way that causes are distinct from their effects, or objects of representation from their representations (Davis 1982; Schroeder 2004).

While some philosophers hold that desires need to be strongly separated from judgments of goodness, other philosophers think that they need to be more closely linked. It was perhaps the view of Socrates that to want something is simply to think it good, and it is simple enough to formulate a theory of desire on this basis.

For an organism to desire p is for it to believe p is good.

Recommending such a theory is the intuition, shared by many, that we are motivated to do what we judge good just because we judge it good (and the intuition that, if I am motivated to do something, I desire to do it). If I judge it good to go to a meeting of the PTA, then that suffices to motivate me to go to the meeting, it would seem, and thus (perhaps) to desire it.

David Lewis has mounted a challenge to such theories of desire on the basis of results from decision theory (Lewis 1988; 1996). Lewis considers the thesis, Desire As Belief, that a rational individual is motivated to make true a proposition p to the extent that she believes p to be good, and shows that within a familiar decision-theoretic framework inconsistencies result. In Lewis's argument, the result follows because of the differences between rational belief revision and rational desire (or motivation) revision within the decision-theoretic framework. In response to Lewis, a number of philosophers have sought to defend the general idea that desires are beliefs in goodness (or are entailed by such beliefs in rational individuals) by defending different specific formulations of the thesis within decision theory (e.g., Price 1989; Byrne and Hájek 1997). There have also been efforts to show that formal decision theory might not be formalizing the right things to draw conclusions about desire and goodness (e.g., Broome 1991).

In a less formal mode, Dennis Stampe and Graham Oddie have independently advanced very similar good-based theories of desire according to which desires are a kind of high-level perceptual state: a perception of goodness.

For an organism to desire p is for p to appear good to the organism.

According to these theorists, perceptions of goodness are not like perceptions of cold or white light, but more like perceptions of something as looking like Mikhail Gorbachev-i.e., complex, high-level perceptual states that are nonetheless distinct from belief states. Stampe and Oddie are both careful to hold that the appearance of goodness is something quite distinct from the judgment or belief that something is good (and thus, though this is not their main concern, they evade Lewis's formal arguments). On Stampe's view, this distinctness is best demonstrated by the fact that it is consistent to claim to believe that something is good while it does not seem good (i.e., is not wanted), but it is not consistent to claim to desire something while it does not seem good (i.e., is not wanted). In a related vein, Oddie argues that, while it is not incoherent to believe that one course of action is the best while not desiring to take it, there is a tension in such a state of affairs, and this tension is best explained as resulting from the fact that desires represent their contents as good (Stampe 1987; Oddie 2005).

One other interesting variant of the position is defended by T.M. Scanlon (1998). According to Scanlon, motivating desires are judgments of, not what is good, but what we have reason to do. (Scanlon also holds that there are non-motivating desires that direct attention; these sorts of desires are discussed in the next section.)

Good-based theories of desire are motivated by considerations so different from action-based theories of desire (or pleasure-based theories) that it is very rare to see advocates of the one attack the other, with the exception of Lewis's very technical work and the literature following from it. As a result, difficulties for good-based theories of desire have not been richly explored in the philosophical literature. One puzzle for such theories might be to explain the relationship of desires to non-human animals. On the one hand, it would seem that rats desire to get away from cats, desire to be around other rats, and the like. On the other hand, it would seem that rats do not represent anything as good (they would both seem to lack the concept of goodness and to lack a perceptual-style representation of goodness that would be well poised to generate such a concept). But if rats can desire without representing the good, then why would people be different? The options available for solving such puzzles have not yet been fully explored.

Another evaluatively loaded theory of desire has been proposed by T.M. Scanlon. Dubbed a theory of desire in the 'directed-attention' sense, this theory links desires to reasons, rather than goodness. But the theory does so through its characterization of how desire plays its most important role, which is its role in directing the attention of the subject who desires.

For an organism to desire p is for the thought ofp to keep occurring to the organism in a favorable light, so that its attention is directed insistently toward considerations that present themselves as counting in favor ofp.

Since, on Scanlon's view, reasons are considerations that count in favor of propositions, it follows from this theory that a desire p exists if one's attention is directed insistently toward apparent reasons to have it be the case that p. This is where the evaluative element enters the theory (Scanlon 1998).

Technically, Scanlon does not present a complete attention-based theory of desire, but only an attention-based sufficient condition for the existence of a desire. Perhaps this is because Scanlon sees his theory as best suited to characterizing desires that are playing an active role at the moment-occurrent desires-but not as giving a good characterization of desires not having that role-standing desires (see below). A theory of standing desires that follows Scanlon's lead might look something like the following.

For an organism to desire p is for it to be disposed to keep having its attention drawn to reasons to havep, or to reasons to avoid not-p.

Like good-based theories of desire, Scanlon's attention-based theory of desire has not yet been engaged at length by proponents of more conservative theories of desire, and it remains to be seen what objections more conservative theorists might raise. One puzzle for the theory might come from its focus on one limited form of attention. According to the theory, desire's characteristic effect is to direct attention toward reasons to fulfill the desire. But desire has notable effects on other forms of attention, too: if Katie desires that Ohio State win a football game, then her desire will direct her attention to information about the game, will direct her attention to opportunities to gain information about the game, will direct her attention to people discussing the game, and so on. These ways in which attention can be directed seem, pre-theoretically, just as important to the nature of desire as the ways that are of interest to the attention-based theory of desire.

All of the theories considered so far have treated desire as a suitable topic for a priori investigation, with one exception. Morillo's methodology treats desires as a natural kind: the natural kind that is responsible for a familiar effect-action-one associates with desire. This general methodology is shared by another philosopher, Timothy Schroeder. But Schroeder sees the neuroscientific evidence as supporting a different conclusion from Morillo's. Schroeder agrees with Morillo that there is a single neurological structure that is the unique common cause of the various phenomena associated with desire (at least, with action, pleasure, and some aspects of thought and attention), and agrees that this structure is the dopamine-releasing reward system. However, he argues that the activity of this neurological structure does not realize pleasure. (Pleasure is said to be one of its effects.) Rather, the output of this neurological structure realizes a form of unconscious learning known as contingency-based learning or reward-based learning. Schroeder thus concludes that desires are this natural kind: reward-based learning mechanisms. Desires have all of their familiar effects on action, feelings, and thought only contingently (compare Morillo 1990 to Schroeder 2004; compare both to the related view in Butler 1992).

For an organism to desire p is for it to use representations ofp to drive reward-based learning.

Schroeder's version of a reward-based theory of desire is a development of a theory advanced by Fred Dretske (Dretske 1988, chapter 5). Dretske advances the view that desires in fact determine what states of affairs will drive reward-based learning, but does not go so far as to offer a complete theory of desire on this basis.

The dispute between Schroeder and Morillo over how to interpret the neural structure that is the unique common cause of phenomena such as action and pleasure highlights one way in which scientific research can become important to philosophical theories of desire. The dopamine-releasing reward system is said by Schroeder to be a cause of pleasure, but by Morillo to be the neural realization of pleasure (when active). Evidence that the reward system realizes pleasure comes principally from the fact that its activity coincides with pleasure (reviewed in Berridge 2003), and from the fact that stimulating the reward system (via drugs or electrodes) is known to cause pleasure (classics of this literature are reviewed in Stellar and Stellar 1985). But this evidence is also compatible with the theory that the reward system is one normal cause of pleasure. Evidence for this latter view has come in the form of evidence that some pleasure-causing drugs work independently of the reward system (reviewed in Berridge 2003), in the form of evidence that rats deprived of their reward systems can still experience gustatory pleasure (Berridge and Robinson 1998), and in the form of reasonable candidates for neural realizers of pleasure that are located causally "downstream" from the reward system (reviewed in Berridge 2003 in support of one candidate structure; a different candidate is defended in Schroeder 2004).

Of all the theories of desire considered here, learning-based theories of desire have the least a priori credibility: no one comes to grasp the idea of a desire through being taught about reward-based learning. A learning-based theory of desire is committed to holding that a desire can exist in a creature that cannot, by its nature, move or feel; so long as it can represent and learn in a certain way (and so long as these capacities are appropriately related), that suffices for a creature to have a desire. A priori, this is likely to seem outlandish. Our ideas about desire tell us that desires are all about actions and feelings, after all. The fact that the learning-based theory of desire holds that an organism could desire sunny days without feeling good about sunny days, without feeling bad about cloudy days, without being motivated to do whatever might help bring about a sunny day or even being moved to jump for joy when it turns sunny-this can be hard to swallow. The plausibility of learning-based theories thus requires either a rejection of a priori constraints on theories of desire, or acceptance of the idea that it is a priori that desires are best theorized as a natural kind that might, in principle, lack the features we most commonly associate with it (for versions of these criticisms, see, e.g., Bratman 1990; Brook 2006; Latham 2006).

So far, only single-feature theories of desire have been considered. But there are also a number of theories of desire that refuse to privilege any one feature. Instead, these theories make central theoretical appeal to the total package of features associated with desire. To have a desire, according to such holistic theories, is a matter of having enough (often a somewhat vague constraint) of some set of desire-like features.

A list of desire-like features for a holistic theory is rarely provided in full, but certain desire-like features are commonly mentioned and can be expected to play a role in most holistic theories. These are the features just considered as candidates for the essential feature of desires.

A creature typically desires p if and only if it is disposed to take whatever actions it believes are likely to bring aboutp.

A creature typically desires p if and only if it is disposed to take pleasure in it seeming thatp, and to take displeasure in it seeming that not-p.

A creature typically desires p if and only if it is disposed to believe thatp is good.

A creature typically desires p if and only if it is disposed to attend to reasons to havep.

Additional features that might well play a role in a holistic theory include any platitudinous observation about desires. A few follow, though platitudes about desire are so numerous that the list could be quite a bit longer than it is.

Creatures tend to desire what is good.

Creatures tend to desire what they need to survive and reproduce.

Creatures normally desire pleasure and do not desire (better: are averse to) pain.

Creatures that desire p tend to have their attention captured by information that bears on whether or notp.

Holistic theories of desire come in two main forms: functionalist and interpretationist. In the functionalist form, a desire is an internal state-type that plays enough of the causal roles suggested by (1)-(8) etc. (e.g., Lewis 1972). In the interpretationist form, desires are not treated as internal state-types found in a causal network. Rather, desires are treated as states of the whole organism, states that exist in virtue of the organism's displaying enough of the sorts of behaviors suggested by (1)-(8) etc. to be legitimately interpreted (in accordance with general principles of interpretation, such as a requirement to interpret creatures as means-end consistent) as having desires (e.g., Davidson 1980).

Also worth noting here is work on caring by Agnieszka Jaworska. Jaworska does not take herself to be developing a theory of desire, and indeed appears to hold something like an action-based theory of desire. Rather, she takes herself to be developing a theory of what it is to care about someone or something. However, the theory which she develops looks much the way a holistic theory of desire would look. To care about someone, on Jaworska's view, is to be motivated to act for that person's welfare (for its own sake), be disposed to feel good at the prospect of the person doing well and bad at the prospect of the person doing poorly, to tend to attend to features of the person's welfare, to have emotions in keeping with this general package-fear when the person's welfare is in peril, relief when all works out for the best, and so on. Thus, while this is not Jaworska's intention, one can read her as offering a holistic theory of desire focused on a subclass of desires: those that can be said to constitute caring about something or someone (Jaworska 2007a; 2007b; 1999).

With a theory of desire in hand one can go on to consider a number of varieties of desire. Even if desires form a large unified group of mental states, there is certainly room for there to be sub-types of desire, and a number have been discussed.

According to most theories, desires are always desires for conceivable states of affairs. A desire for tea is a desire for a certain state of affairs one has in mind: that one drink some tea. A desire for a new pair of skates is likewise a desire for another state of affairs: that one own a new pair of skates. And so on. This idea is also expressed with phrases such as 'desires are attitudes toward propositions' or 'desires have propositional content'. Treating desires in this way makes it easy to see how there could be logical relations between the contents of beliefs, desires, and intentions.

A competing way of thinking about desires holds that some or all desires are desires for objects, not states of affairs. A desire for tea is simply for tea, not for any state of affairs involving the tea. This competing way of thinking has the advantage that it takes seriously the way we ordinarily talk about desires and think about them. It is far more natural to say that I desire tea than to say that I desire that I have some tea, and perhaps this naturalness is indicative of something deep about the nature of desire. Furthermore, it might well seem that non-human animals have desires without being able to grasp the propositions a grip on which we so readily attribute to human beings (Thagard 2006).

A response, though, is that the natural phrasing conceals some of the complexity inherent in desire, and that the non-human animals who have desires have structure to their cognitive capacities that is expressed by talking about propositional content. If Nora desires tea, there is a fact of the matter about which of the following four states of affairs is one in which her desire is satisfied:

Nora possesses but does not drink a cup of tea in the near future.

Nora possesses but does not drink a cup of tea someday.

Nora drinks a cup of tea in the near future.

Nora drinks a cup of tea someday.

If it is (3) that would satisfy Nora's desire, then there seems much gained and little lost in saying that Nora's desire is for a state of affairs: that she drink a cup of tea in the near future. And likewise, if an owl desires a vole it seems that there is a fact of the matter about which of the counterpart states of affairs it is that would satisfy the owl's desire (and the counterpart to (3) seems most likely).

Even if it is accepted that desires are for conceivable states of affairs, there are other complications remaining. Some have pointed to the difficulties of specifying exactly what is desired: even if Nora wants to now drink a cup of tea, she might protest that she hasn't received what she wants if it turns out that the tea is very stale, or laced with arsenic, or brought by a robber, or ... (e.g., Lycan 2012). Others have pointed to the difficulties generated by conditional desires, such as the desire to have beer later if one is not too tired (e.g., McDaniel and Bradley 2008).

Some desires are for states of affairs that are wanted for themselves: these are intrinsic desires. It is generally agreed that pleasure is desired for its own sake, and it is plausible that many people also desire the welfare of their children, the success of their favorite sports teams, and the end of injustice, and desire them all intrinsically. To desire something intrinsically is not to desire it exclusively for its own sake, but to desire it at least partially for its own sake: my father desires my welfare in part for my own sake, but no doubt he also desires it in part because he would have trouble sleeping were I doing poorly, and he does not want to lose sleep.

That is to say, my father desires my welfare both intrinsically and instrumentally: as a means to an end. Normally, however, one calls a desire 'instrumental' when one means it is merely instrumental: when one means that the end is desired merely as a means to some other end, and not at all for its own sake (instrumental desires are also sometimes called 'extrinsic').

An interesting case of instrumental desires might be many of the so-called 'second-order desires' that have been discussed in the wake of Harry Frankfurt's work. According to Frankfurt, it is the power to form desires about their own desires, i.e., second-order desires, that makes us persons, makes us beings capable of having cares, loves, and free will (e.g., Frankfurt 1971; 1999). Second-order desires are desires regarding one's first-order desires, and first-order desires are desires for ordinary (non-conative) things such as snacks or the trouncing of the New York Yankees. Thus, a desire to yell at a drunken reveler who disturbs my sleep is a first-order desire, while a desire that I not act on my desire to yell at the drunken reveler is a second-order desire. If one considers whether such a second-order desire is intrinsic or instrumental, the most reasonable conclusion is typically that the desire is instrumental: I desire not to act on my desire to yell because I desire to not have rocks thrown at my window, and I see not acting on my desire to yell as a means to not having rocks thrown at my window. (Note that David Lewis' discussion of the role of second-order desires in valuing requires that they be intrinsic desires. This raises an interesting question: how often would a second-order desire be truly intrinsic? See Lewis 1989.)

In the above scenario, I might also intrinsically desire to be civil and tolerant, and see not acting on my desire to yell as a way to be civil and tolerant. But in this case, the relation between my intrinsic desire and my desire not to act on my desire to yell is not quite an instrumental relation. Refraining from acting on my desire to yell is not a means for achieving the end of civil and tolerant behavior. Rather, it is an instance of civil and tolerant behavior. In such situations, it is said that my desire not to act on my desire to yell is a realizer desire: a desire for an end that would count as one possible realization of an intrinsic desire. This sort of desire gets some discussion in, e.g., Arpaly and Schroeder (2014) and Schmidtz (1994).

It is generally held that desires come on a continuum of strength: desires can be stronger or weaker. The strength of a desire is typically said to be constituted by the desire's causal power regarding the control of action: for one desire to be stronger than another is for the agent to be disposed to act upon it, rather than the second desire, in a situation in which (a) all else is equal, and (b) the agent believes that each desire is satisfiable by a distinct action, and (c) the agent believes that the desires are not jointly satisfiable. This way of characterizing desire strength is obviously most suited to an action-based theory of desire. But for each theory of desire there is a corresponding theory of desire strength available. Desire strength could be determined by the amount of pleasure or displeasure apparent satisfaction of the desire would bring, or by the degree to which a state of affairs seems good, or by the degree to which one's attention is drawn to the reasons to bring some state of affairs about, or by the amount of reward-based learning apparent satisfaction of the desire would cause, or by some average of all of these.

Most theorists have little more to say about desire strength than what appears above. An exception is found in the work of decision theorists: within decision theory, preference is given a formal characterization, and through this formal characterization, various results can be proven. A foundational result about desire strength is that, if a minimally rational person has set of pairwise preferences (for A over B, for C over D, and so on), these pairwise preferences can be used to determine the strengths of preferences. That is, from a large set of basic facts about what is preferred to what, facts about how much each thing must be preferred to the other can be derived (e.g., von Neumann and Morgenstern 1944).

One puzzle for most theories of desire strength is that desires seem to vary in their power to manifest the typical signs of strength even when it would seem that there is no variation in how much their ends are wanted. Think of a standard intrinsic desire: a desire for the welfare of a child. My disposition to act so as to benefit Cecilia might well be stronger when I am in a good mood than when I am feeling low, it might well be stronger when I am wide awake than when I am very sleepy, might well be stronger when the change in welfare will happen right now rather than in a month, and so on. These changes in disposition seem unlikely to mark changes in how much I desire Cecelia's welfare, however. Rather, they would seem to mark changes in how effectively my desire is poised to influence my actions. Similarly, the idea of certain harms to Cecelia's welfare will make me feel terrible (the idea of her being bitten by a dog, say) while others will make me feel less terrible (the idea of her getting chicken pox, say), even while my estimation of the harm to her welfare might make the two scenarios quite similar. Again, this would seem to indicate some idiosyncrasy in how effectively my desire is poised to influence my feelings, rather than indicating a difference in strength of desire (in this case, getting chicken pox seems like an expected ordeal of childhood, and that seems to blunt my felt response). And likewise for appearances of goodness and dispositions to pay attention.

An advantage shared by learning-based theories and holistic theories of desire is that they are, in a natural way, able to hold that the strength of a desire can be a constant even while the effect of the desire on action, feelings, or thoughts seems disproportionate to the desire's strength. In the case of learning-based theories of desire, so long as there is a merely causal relation between the learning signal and the ordinary signs of desire strength, there is no contradiction in holding that a strong desire has effects like those of a weak desire, or vice versa. In the case of holistic theories, so long as desire strength is not reduced to strength of a single phenomenon, there is no contradiction in holding that a strong desire has one or a few effects like those of a weak desire, or vice versa. It is when theories reduce desires to a single observable core phenomenon that apparently meaningless fluctuations in that phenomenon pose a problem.

If Nora desires tea, then her desire is likely to be manifest: Nora is likely to be aware of her desire, and her desire is likely to generate its characteristic effects so long as Nora continues to desire tea. On the other hand, if Ben desires a new pair of skates, then his desire is not likely to be manifest all the time. A new pair of skates is something Ben might well desire for two or three months before getting a new pair, and it is unlikely that his desire will be manifesting itself for that entire time. More likely, Ben's desire will lie quietly "in the back of his mind" most of the time, and occasionally generate thoughts, feelings, and actions of the familiar sorts.

Standing desires are desires one has that are not playing any role in one's psyche at the moment. Occurrent desires, on the other hand, are desires that are playing some role in one's psyche at the moment. Notice here that occurrent desires need not be in control of one's actions: my desire to laze in bed is occurrent even while I am getting up and making breakfast, for my desire is leading me to think longingly of bed, and is perhaps acting upon my mechanisms of action production in a way that would lead me back to bed if only I did not also desire to get some things done. Desires of which one is not aware, but which are current causes of one's behavior, are also occurrent on this way of thinking about things: a desire for a new inkstand might cause one to move clumsily so as to destroy one's current inkstand without affecting one's thoughts or feelings, and if so it would be occurrent at the moment of clumsiness.

Some philosophers hold that only occurrent desires are real desires. So-called standing desires are really just dispositions to generate desires, on this way of thinking. One difficulty for this position is that standing desires seem to be good components of causal explanations of various mental processes. For instance: why does the new tin of tea on the counter of her boyfriend's kitchen catch Nora's attention? It might be that it caught her attention because she has a standing desire to know about the tea that is available to her, and the tin in her boyfriend's kitchen is relevant to this desire. Why is Nora delighted to see the tin? Because she has a standing desire to try new kinds of tea, and she has just seen that the tin contains a new kind of tea. And so on. The ground of the disposition to generate occurrent desires can do for these sorts of explanations, but it is truer to ordinary thinking about the mind to say that this ground just is a desire-a standing desire-than to say that it is anything else.

Some philosophers hold that all occurrent desires are elements of one's conscious life. Just as I have a capacity to see red that is not exercised until seeing red is an element of my consciousness, so too I have a capacity to desire that my French be fluent, and this capacity is not exercised until desiring that my French be fluent is an element of my consciousness. Notice that the thesis is not just that desires are only sometimes objects of one's conscious life. That is, the thesis is not merely that I am only sometimes conscious of my desires in the same way that I am only sometimes conscious of my toes. Rather, the thesis in question is that there is a qualitative character to desire, a qualitative character that can be an element, feature, or aspect of one's consciousness. Any philosopher holding that desires are constituted by pleasures or seemings might well take this position (e.g., Oddie 2005; Stampe 1987; Strawson 1994). Against it the argument has been made that the direction of fit of desire is incompatible with the direction of fit of elements of consciousness, on the grounds that desires (roughly) say how things should be while consciousness (roughly) says how things are (Hulse, Read, and Schroeder 2004).

Because desires feature prominently in theories of mind, action, free will, and morality (and more!), desires are enmeshed in far too many controversies to enumerate them all here. Nonetheless, some controversies surrounding desires are worthy of special attention, either because they are controversies surrounding key features of desire (the first three that follow) or because they are controversies that illustrate the larger role of desires in philosophical theorizing, especially ethical theorizing (the second three).

Since Anscombe, desires are said to have a "direction of fit," and one that is the opposite to the "direction of fit" of beliefs. One modest way of putting the point is this: beliefs are like declarative sentences, which are satisfied (made true) by whether the world as it is conforms to them, but desires are like imperative sentences, which are satisfied (fulfilled) by changes in the world bringing the world into conformity with them. What exactly this analogy amounts to, literally, is controversial. Is it perhaps that one's beliefs ought to conform to the world, whereas the world ought to conform to one's desires (Gregory 2012)? Is it perhaps that the world tends to cause satisfied beliefs (true beliefs), while desires tend to cause there to be a desire-satisfying (desire-fulfilling) world? This is still an area in which it is difficult to know just how to evaluate the proposals on offer, and there is little sign of a consensus emerging in the foreseeable future (see, e.g., Anscombe 2000; Schueler 1991; Smith 1994; Zangwill 1998).

Another and related puzzle is over whether there might be states of mind with both desire-like and belief-like directions of fit. These states of mind, sometimes called 'besires', are said to be of particular interest to ethicists interested in the possibility of belief-like attitudes motivating action all on their own (see, e.g., Smith 1994 chapter 4; Zangwill 2008).

There is relatively little mystery about the generation of instrumental and realizer desires. These desires are generated by (conscious or unconscious) reasoning processes, in which one reasons one's way to the conclusion that if only it were the case that p that would make it more likely that q or would be a realization of q. If it so happens that one already intrinsically desires that q, then this reasoning process will automatically and unconsciously generate an instrumental or realizer desire that p, at least in rational beings. (The strength of the new desire, in a rational individual, and all else being equal, increases with the strength of the intrinsic desire that q and the apparent usefulness of bringing it about that p toward bringing it about that q.) Or at least, this picture is a relatively uncontroversial one among philosophers who treat instrumental and realizer desires as components in a causal network that might be investigated by science. Philosophers who approach the mind as a field for interpretation are more likely to hold a non-mechanistic version of this story according to which a person should be interpreted as instrumentally or realizationally desiring p when we already interpret her as intrinsically desiring q and we already interpret her as believing that p would make q more likely.

The generation of intrinsic desires is a matter of much more controversy and interest. The psychological hedonist holds that there is only one intrinsic desire-for pleasure-and this desire is innate (e.g., Pollock 2006). Philosophers who believe that we have a rich collection of intrinsic desires, including desires for the welfare of those we love and the success of those sports teams we support, are left with more difficult questions, however. Perhaps some of our desires are innate (for pleasure, for gentle touches and hugs, for adequate nutrition and hydration...) but many of our intrinsic desires clearly are not. If Ben intrinsically desires success for the Columbus Blue Jackets, this is certainly not a result of the innate structure of his mind.

Some have proposed that it is possible to acquire new intrinsic desires by reasoning. According to Michael Smith, if one believes that, were one rational, one would desire that p, then this will tend to generate an intrinsic desire that p. Thus, if I believe that, were I rational, I would want to give money to the Third World, then this will tend to generate an intrinsic desire in me to give money to the Third World (Smith 1994). There is a difficulty here in evaluating Smith's idea. It certainly seems as though thinking about what I would-were I only perfectly rational-want to do is the sort of thing that can generate a new desire in me. But it is less clear that the desire generated is intrinsic as opposed to a realizer desire (a realizer for the desire to do what is rational, or perhaps moral). Phenomenologically, it seems difficult to distinguish the two, and so it is not easy to evaluate Smith's theory. These difficulties have not prevented philosophers from trying, however (e.g., Dreier 2000).

An interesting consequence of Smith's proposal is that it makes it rational to have certain intrinsic desires, and irrational to lack other intrinsic desires, depending on what one believes to be true. This is a departure from a view of desires stemming at least from David Hume, according to which beliefs have no business dictating what we should desire intrinsically. (At most, beliefs can dictate what we should desire as a means or realizer to what we desire intrinsically, according to this line of thought.) But it aligns Smith with those who take it to be part of the business of reasoning to set "final ends" (e.g., Richardson 1997).

Another proposal regarding the generation of intrinsic desires leaves rationality out of the picture entirely. According to this proposal, new intrinsic desires are acquired by associating new states of affairs with ones that already satisfy existing intrinsic desires, according to the principles of reward-based learning. So, if a young child intrinsically desires a dry bottom and a full stomach, and is aware that its mother's presence tends to help with these things, then the young child will naturally desire its mother's presence instrumentally. But whether the child is aware of the instrumental relationship or not, if the mother's presence often presages the satisfaction of the child's intrinsic desires for a dry bottom and full stomach, then the learning processes generated by desire satisfaction will also tend to cause the young child to acquire an intrinsic desire for the presence of its mother (Schroeder 2004).

Talk of preference, rather than desire, tends to dominate the literature of decision theory. The decision theorist sees human beings as making choices between options, and these choices express preferences among the options. If the human being is rational, her preferences are consistent and allow one to determine the expected utility of any given choice for her. The expected utility of an action, in turn, is the pleasure (or relief from suffering) it can be expected to bring, according to one (mostly older) approach, or is the degree to which the agent would (ideally) be inclined to choose it, according to the other (more modern) approach to utility (see, e.g., Skyrms 1990 for a discussion).

If utility is treated as pleasure, then decision theory is compatible with any theory of desire that holds pleasure to be the only thing desired. If utility is treated as choice-worthiness, then decision theory is compatible with any theory of desire at all (except perhaps for theories that hold desires are beliefs in goodness, as discussed in section 1.3). So the focus on preferences does not, on its own, generate conflict between decision theory and theories of desire.

Conflict can arise, however, when one asks whether desires or preferences are more fundamental; John Pollock has recently brought attention to this dispute (Pollock 2006). Decision theorists have tended to treat pairwise preferences as basic: the basic attitude is that of preferring A to B (e.g., von Neumann and Morgenstern 1944). Most other theorists of desire have treated desires as basic: the basic attitude is that of desiring A. If desires are basic, and desires have strengths, then it is easy enough to determine preferences from them: if I desire that my father be healthy to a high degree, and I desire that I do my laundry to a low degree, then it follows that I prefer my father's health to doing the laundry, all else being equal. But if preferences are basic, then deriving something like desires from them becomes an interesting task (discussed briefly above, in Section 2.3).

The simplest reason to suppose that preferences are basic is that they are readily introspected and acted upon, whereas desires with specific strengths are not. I can tell that I prefer securing my father's health to doing the laundry, and I know which I would choose if it came to a choice. But can I introspect the degree to which I prefer my father's health over clean laundry? Perhaps not. And if I cannot, perhaps this is because I have introspective access to the most basic psychological facts only, and these are facts about simple pairwise preferences. As von Neumann and Morgenstern write, "every measurement-or rather every claim of measurability-must ultimately be based on some immediate sensation, which possibly cannot and certainly need not be analyzed any further. In the case of utility the immediate sensation of preference-of one object or aggregate of objects as against another-provides this basis" (1944, 16).

One reason to suppose that preferences are not basic is that it appears, within standard decision theory, that a very large number of basic pairwise preferences are required in order to settle facts about how much one prefers A to B for arbitrary objects A and B. That is, the facts about degrees of desire can only be generated from more basic facts about pairwise preferences given a truly enormous number of basic facts about pairwise preferences. Pollock (2006) argues that the number of such facts is on the order of a billion billions at the very least, just to encode the same facts about desire and preference that could readily be generated from just three hundred basic facts about desires. From the assumption that the basic psychological facts must be physically realized in the brain, Pollock concludes that it is psychologically realistic to believe in basic desires, not basic pairwise preferences.

Complicating matters is empirical research suggesting that our preferences are subject to such powerful contextual influences that it is better to talk about the construction of coherent preferences than about their derivation from underlying desires (see, e.g., the papers in Lichtenstein and Slovic 2006). For example, in a classic study, it was found that offering subjects a free choice between one of two bets (of almost identical expected value-around $4-but with different maximum payoffs and different maximum penalties) led to subjects revealing a preference for one of the two bets. Offering the same subjects a chance to bid on each bet revealed that subjects were often willing to pay more to play the other of the two bets, apparently showing that subjects preferred the other of the two bets when bidding but not when choosing freely (Lichtenstein and Slovic 1971). Thus, something as minimal as the difference between choosing and bidding can shift preferences between two near-equivalent bets, or so it would seem, calling into question the very existence of a stable fact about preference independent of the way a choice is framed. If this is the best way to look at things, then perhaps it will turn out that a small number of preferences are basic, and that there just are no facts about the degree to which something is desired overall by a person.

Turning to meta-ethics, a vibrant debate exists over the relation of desires to reasons to act. According to one tradition, typically called 'Humean' or 'Neo-Humean', the existence of reasons to act depends on the existence of desires possessed by the agent who would act. Thus, my reason to drink hot chocolate depends on my desires, and likewise my reason to help a stranger depends on my desires, according to the Humean.

Some have taken Humeanism to claim that reasons are identical to the having of desires (so that my reason to drink hot chocolate is the fact that I desire to drink hot chocolate) while others have taken Humeanism to claim that reasons are (typically) non-desire states of affairs that are reasons in virtue of their relations to desires (so that my reason to drink hot chocolate is that it tastes a certain way, but that it tastes a certain way is only a reason to drink hot chocolate because I desire to experience such tastes). Though related, these two positions have substantially different implications, as Mark Schroeder has argued (Schroeder 2007).

Humeans have defended their position in several ways, but contemporary debate has focused in large part on an argument developed by Bernard Williams. Williams argues that only Humeanism can explain the relation between reasons and motivation: if one has a reason to act, then one can act for that reason, Williams holds. But this is only guaranteed if having a reason to act involves having a desire. Hence reasons to act depend on the existence of desires (Williams 1981). Taking a somewhat different approach, Mark Schroeder argues that, when properly formulated, Humeanism simply fits best with our range of intuitions about what reasons there are to act and the ways in which these reasons are or are not contingent on facts about our psychologies (Schroeder 2007).

Attacks on the Humean position have often been motivated by moral considerations: one does not need to have any desires whatsoever (not desires properly so-called, at any rate) in order to have a reason to do what is moral, according to some anti-Humeans, and so this particular reason to act, at least, is not in any way dependent upon desires (e.g., Schueler 1995). A more fundamental attack has been launched by Christine Korsgaard, who argues that, if it is true that there is a reason to act on one's desires, then this is a fundamental evaluative fact-and so there is no reason to be skeptical about parallel fundamental evaluative facts that entail there are reasons independent of one's desires (Korsgaard 1997).

Within normative ethics there is some interest in the notion of a person's happiness, welfare, or well-being, especially within consequentialist approaches to morality holding that a moral action is one that maximizes well-being. One approach to well-being holds that a person's well-being stems from the satisfaction of her desires.

A central feature of desire-based theories of well-being is that they take actual states of affairs to be what is important to a person's well-being, rather than the person's perceptions of actuality. Thus, if I desire that I win an Olympic gold medal, then I am only well off in this respect if I win the medal: if I get tricked into believing that I have won the medal when I have not, then my well-being has not been increased in the relevant respect. This might be an advantage for desire-based theories of well-being (mere trickery seems unlikely to increase my actual well-being) or it might be a disadvantage (what I do not know cannot hurt me, can it?). Discussion of this point is ongoing (e.g., Sumner 1996).

A challenge for desire-based theories of well-being is that we would seem to have some desires the satisfaction of which would not, ultimately, contribute to our well-being in any obvious sense. Desires stemming from ignorance, from neurosis, or the like might be of this sort. Brandt (1979) develops a well known response to these sorts of concerns, arguing that the desires the satisfaction of which would contribute to one's well-being are those that would survive a process of "cognitive psychotherapy."

Desire-based theories of well-being have been challenged both by those who find them insufficiently attentive to the individual's state of mind, especially to the pleasure enjoyed by the individual (e.g., Feldman 2004), and by those who find them excessively attentive to the individual's state of mind, to the exclusion of what is essential to human flourishing (e.g., Nussbaum 2000, chapter 1).

Within moral psychology, desire features prominently in a debate over the conditions for moral praiseworthiness and blameworthiness.

According to a familiar Kantian doctrine, a person is only praiseworthy for doing the right thing if the person acts only from the motive of duty, and not from an "inclination" (a desire) to do the right thing (Kant 1964). Thus, if the right thing to do is to support microlending in Africa, and I do so, then I am praiseworthy only if I have acted out of my intellectual grasp of the fact that supporting microlending is my duty. If have acted out of a desire to feel good about myself, or even a desire to be kind or to work for justice, then I am not praiseworthy for doing the right thing. The thesis has also been defended by contemporary Kantians (e.g., Herman 1993, chapter 1).

Opposing the familiar Kantian doctrine is work by Nomy Arpaly, who argues that praiseworthiness in fact requires acting on certain desires-namely, desires for what is in fact good (Arpaly 2002; see also Arpaly and Schroeder 2014). In Arpaly's view, acting rightly from a sense of duty is compatible with acting rightly in a way that is not praiseworthy at all, if one's view of duty is sufficiently mistaken that one ends up doing the right thing only by accident. Thus, if the right thing to do is to support microlending in Africa, and I do so, then I am praiseworthy according to Arpaly only if I have acted out of a desire to be kind (if that is the content of morality) or a desire to do what is just (if that is the content of morality).

Between the contrasting views of Kant and Arpaly are the views of a number of virtue ethicists, Aristotle (perhaps) among them, who hold that a desire to do what is right and knowledge of the right are both required for an otherwise appropriate act to be praiseworthy (e.g., Aristotle 1999, Hursthouse 1999).

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---, 1999. "Respecting the margins of agency: Alzheimer's patients and the capacity to value," Philosophy and Public Affairs, 28: 105-38.

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Marks, J., 1986. "On the need for theory of desire," in J. Marks (ed.), The Ways of Desire, Chicago: Precedent.

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---, 1990. "He wants to try," Analysis, 50: 251-53.

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There is a simple, conservative theory of desire according to which having a desire is a matter of having dispositions to act. According to this theory, dispositions to act are the only essential feature of desires; the tendencies a person has to feel certain ways or think in certain ways when she has a desire are interesting but inessential tendencies.

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Sun Glitter is something I stumbled upon when looking into glitter in general. I find it incredible that this specific phenomenon has a name. Might even be fun to work with water en light to recreate sun glitter.

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Sun Glitter Provides a Detailed Map of Ocean Waves

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European scientists use satellite sensors to detect light reflected off waves at the ocean's surface, which could help improve wave forecasts.

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George Balanchine © The George Balanchine Trust

Pelléas et Mélisande, Shylock, Capriccio for Piano and Orchestra, Symphony No. 3 in D major, Op. 29

Gabrie Faurel/Igor Stravinsky/Peter Ilyitch Tschaikovsky

Jewels is unique: a full-length, three-act plotless ballet that uses the music of three very different composers. Balanchine was inspired by the artistry of jewelry designer Claude Arpels, and chose music revealing the essence of each jewel. He explained: "Of course, I have always liked jewels; after all, I am an Oriental, from Georgia in the Caucasus. I like the color of gems, the beauty of stones, and it was wonderful to see how our costume workshop, under Karinska's direction, came so close to the quality of real stones (which were of course too heavy for the dancers to wear!)."

​

Each section of the ballet is distinct in both music and mood. Emeralds, which Balanchine considered "an evocation of France - the France of elegance, comfort, dress, perfume," recalls the 19th century dances of the French Romantics. Rubies is crisp and witty, epitomizing the collaboration of Stravinsky and Balanchine. Diamonds recalls the order and grandeur of Imperial Russia and the Maryinsky Theater, where Balanchine was trained. Mary Clarke and Clement Crisp have written: "If the entire imperial Russian inheritance of ballet were lost, Diamonds would still tell us of its essence."

​

Gabriel Urbain Fauré (1845-1924), was Maurice Ravel's teacher, and his life and work bridged the eras of Romanticism and Impressionism. He wrote piano and chamber music as well as incidental music for plays such as Pelléas et Mélisande and Shylock; he composed operas and many songs set to the words of French poets of the late nineteenth century, especially Verlaine.

​

Igor Stravinsky (1882-1971), born in Russia, is acknowledged as one of the great composers of the twentieth century. His work encompassed styles as diverse as Romanticism, Neoclassicism and Serialism. His ballets for Diaghilev's Ballets Russes included The Firebird, Petrushka, The Rite of Spring, and Apollo. His music has been used in over 30 ballets originating with New York City Ballet from 1948 through 1987, including Danses Concertantes, Orpheus, The Cage, Agon, Monumentum pro Gesualdo, Rubies, Symphony in Three Movements, Stravinsky Violin Concerto, Concerto for Two Solo Pianos, Suite from L'Histoire du Soldat, Concertino, and Jeu de Cartes.

​

Peter Ilyitch Tschaikovsky (1840-1893) studied at the Conservatory in St. Petersburg, where Balanchine later studied piano in addition to his studies in dance. Tschaikovsky is one of the most popular and influential of all romantic composers. His work is expressive, melodic, grand in scale, with rich orchestrations. His output was prodigious and included chamber works, symphonies, concerti for various instruments, operas, and works for the piano. His creations for the ballet, composed in close partnership with Marius Petipa, include Swan Lake, The Nutcracker, and The Sleeping Beauty.

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jewelsgeorge balanchine © the george balanchine trustpelléas et mélisande

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op. 29 gabrie faurel/igor stravinsky/peter ilyitch tschaikovsky1967

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George Balanchine © The George Balanchine Trust Pelléas et Mélisande, Shylock, Capriccio for Piano and Orchestra, Symphony No. 3 in D major, Op. 29 Gabrie Faurel/Igor Stravinsky/Peter Ilyitch Tschaikovsky Jewels is unique: a full-length, three-act plotless ballet that uses the music of three very different composers.

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Diamond Skull (not really my thing, but interesting)

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"I just thought, 'What can you pit against death?"[1]

'For the Love of God', a platinum skull set with diamonds, is one of Hirst's most important and widely recognised works. Its raw materials define it as an artwork of unprecedented scale. The 32 platinum plates making up 'For the Love of God' are set with 8,601 VVS to flawless pavé-set diamonds, weighing a massive 1,106.18 carats. The teeth inserted into the jaw are real and belong to the original skull.

The skull from which 'For the Love of God' was cast, was purchased from a London taxidermist and subsequently subjected to intensive bioarchaeological analysis and radiocarbon dating. This research revealed it dated from around 1720 - 1810, and was likely to be that of a 35-year-old man of European/Mediterranean ancestry. The title originates from exclamations Hirst's mother would make on hearing plans for new works when he was starting out as an artist. As he explains: "She used to say, 'For the love of God, what are you going to do next!'"

'For the Love of God' acts as a reminder that our existence on earth is transient.Hirst combined the imagery of classic memento mori with inspiration drawn from Aztec skulls and the Mexican love of decoration and attitude towards death. He explains of death: "You don't like it, so you disguise it or you decorate it to make it look like something bearable - to such an extent that it becomes something else."[2]

The incorporation of the large central stone was inspired by memories of the comic '2000 AD', which Hirst used to read as a child. He relates how the comic, "used to have a character in it called Tharg the Mighty who had a circle on his forehead. He was like a kind of powerful, God-like figure who controlled the universe," Hirst explains. "It kind of just looked like it needed something. A third eye; a connection to Jesus and his dad."[3]

Alongside their dazzling brilliance and "Eucharistic" beauty, Hirst's fascination with diamonds results partly from the mutterings and uncertainty surrounding their inherent worth. In the face of the industry's ability to establish their irreplaceable value, it becomes necessary to question whether they are "just a bit of glass, with accumulated metaphorical significance? Or [whether they] are genuine objects of supreme beauty connected with life."[4] The cutthroat nature of the diamond industry, and the capitalist society which supports it, is central to the work's concept. Hirst explains that the stones "bring out the best and the worst in people [...] people kill for diamonds, they kill each other".[5]

In 2010, Hirst created a second, baby diamond skull called ' For Heaven's Sake ' using pink diamonds.

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"I just thought, 'What can you pit against death?"[1] 'For the Love of God', a platinum skull set with diamonds, is one of Hirst's most important and widely recognised works. Its raw materials define it as an artwork of unprecedented scale.

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Diamond museum - Amsterdam - let’s go

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Discover 400 years of diamond history in Europe's only Diamond Museum and find out why Amsterdam is called the "City of Diamonds" The museum takes you on a journey that starts hundreds of kilometers below the surface of the earth and ends up in the ring on your finger.

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Carat - diamond

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Diamonds are weighed in diamond carat weights. A carat weighs 200 milligrams. Diamond professionals also use the point system for smaller diamonds, with 100 points being equal to one carat.

A carat is usually abbreviated to ct .

Cttw refers to total carat weight. It is the total weight of all the diamonds in a piece of jewelry. For example, in the case of diamond earrings, the total carat weight refers to the weight of the diamonds in both earrings together. If the total carat weight is 1 carat, each individual earring is set with a 1/2 carat diamond.

The Connection Between Carat Weight And Price

All factors being equal, a larger diamond will cost more per carat than a smaller diamond because it is rarer. Two half carat diamonds will typically cost less together than a single one carat diamond. A four carat diamond will cost more than four times the price of a two carat diamond of the same quality.

The Connection Between Carat Weight And Dimensions

Two diamonds with exactly the same carat weight but with a different shape can have very different dimensions depending on their cut.

Carat weight is only one of the factors to consider when buying a diamond. Read more about color, cut and clarity.

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Diamond Carats Learn All About Diamond Carat Weight

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Diamonds are weighed in diamond carat weights. A carat weighs 200 milligrams. Diamond professionals also use the point system for smaller diamonds, with 100 points being equal to one carat. A carat is usually abbreviated to ct . Cttw refers to total carat weight.

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Clarity - diamond

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A diamond clarity grade is a measure of how free the diamond is from internal inclusions (imperfections), or external blemishes (marks of various kinds). Diamonds which have no inclusions or blemishes are incredibly rare in nature. Most diamonds have flaws which cannot be seen except using 10x magnification - which is how diamonds are graded. Such flaws do not affect the beauty of the diamond.

Diamond Clarity Grades

Abbreviation

Clarity Grade

Description

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Diamond Clarity What You Need To Know About Diamond Clarity

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A diamond clarity grade is a measure of how free the diamond is from internal inclusions (imperfections), or external blemishes (marks of various kinds). Diamonds which have no inclusions or blemishes are incredibly rare in nature. Most diamonds have flaws which cannot be seen except using 10x magnification - which is how diamonds are graded.

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Colour - Diamond

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Diamond color is rated on a scale from D (colorless) to Z (obviously yellow or brownish). Unless you are a diamond expert you will probably not be able to tell the difference between diamonds which are color graded D-I unless you are comparing diamonds side by side. Diamonds with higher color grades are rare and often command a premium price. However, color is largely a matter of personal preference and while some seek a near colorless diamond, others prefer a trace of color.

Color Grade D

D is the highest color grade and is reserved for a truly colorless diamond. It is completely colorless to the naked eye and much sought after because it is so rare.

Color Grade E

E grade diamonds are almost perfectly colorless, with only microscopic traces of color which can only be identified by diamond experts.

Color Grade F

F grade diamonds are almost totally colorless, with only minute hints of color which can only be detected by experienced gemologists.

Color Grade G

G grade diamonds appear nearly colorless to non diamond experts. This grade offers excellent value for money.

Color Grade H

H grade diamonds have a very slight tinge of color which is only perceptible when evaluated next to a colorless diamond. They appear nearly colorless to non diamond professionals and offer an excellent investment.

Color Grade I

I grade diamonds have very slight color traces which are only evident when compared to a colorless diamond. To non diamond professionals they appear nearly colorless.

Color Grade J

J grade diamonds have a very slight yellow tinge. They are an excellent choice for those on a budget who are not looking for a colorless diamond.

Color Grade K

K grade diamonds have a very minor yellow hue. They are popular choice for the budget conscious.

Color Grade L

L grade diamonds have a faintly tinted yellow color. They are a good alternative for those not looking for a colorless diamond, and who are seeking excellent value for money.

Color Grade M

M grade diamonds have a slightly noticeable yellow color. They are often a good choice for those not looking for a colorless diamond.

Color Grade N and Lower

N grade diamonds and lower color grades have lightly tinged yellow color. They are a good alternative for the budget conscious who prefer a diamond with some color.

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Diamond Color How To Choose Your Diamond Color

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Diamond color is rated on a scale from D (colorless) to Z (obviously yellow or brownish). Unless you are a diamond expert you will probably not be able to tell the difference between diamonds which are color graded D-I unless you are comparing diamonds side by side.

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(Brief) History of Diamond Cutting

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The history of diamond cutting officially began in the middle ages when diamonds became fashionable in Europe. This diagram illustrates the six most popular antique diamond cuts throughout history.

1300 Early Point Cuts

The very first diamonds were found in India and kept as loose unpolished stones. They were considered sacred objects that were believed to have possessed magical powers. Not until the 11th century were diamonds worn in jewelry but still in an uncut form. Initial diamond cutting began in the 14th century but at that time it was likely very superficial type of polishing of the stone in order to give it some shine. Initially there was the point cut, which followed the natural shape of the diamond. Diamonds were very rare and were only worn by kings and queens.

1400 Point & Table Cuts

The table cut was the first major faceting technique to be used. Followed by the step cut. The precursor to the emerald cut diamond, which wouldn't be called that until the 1940s. It was during the 15th century that it was discovered that diamonds could be cut by their own dust!

In 1477 Mary of Burgundy became the first to receive a diamond engagement ring which was gifted to her by Archduke Maximilian of Austria. The ring was set with a point cut diamond and thin flat pieces of diamonds in the shape of an "M". It is likely that the tradition of the diamond engagement ring really began with this event.

1500 Early Rose Cuts

In the 16th century tools were invented to cut facets into diamonds. The rose cut and transition cut were added to the diamond cutter's repertoire. It was at this time that early bruting, faceting, and polishing of diamonds began to be used by European cutters.

Until this time most of the diamond trade took place in India. As cutting techniques matured, diamonds began to take on a new perception and demand grew but they were still rare and would continue to be until the discovery of African mines in the late 19th century.

With just 24 facets, the subtle beauty of rose cut diamonds is that they impart a soft diffused light rather then the bright light of the modern brilliant cut. The most significant trait of rose cut diamonds is that they are flat at the bottom and dome shaped at the top. Unlike other diamonds which have culets and tables.

1700 Rose & Rise of Old Mine Cushion Cuts

The early 18th century saw a rise of diamond production in Brazil and the coming of new rounded or cushion shaped diamonds. The most significant being the old mine cushion.

Old mine cut diamonds, also known as a cushion cuts, are basically the great-grandfathers of modern brilliant cuts. Developed in 18th century Europe, these cuts were not round but had a slightly curved edge which formed a soft square. They were made with a variety of facet patterns but always with a small table, high crown, and larger culet, giving them an architectural look.

Diamonds continued to be rare during the Georgian era and only worn by aristocracy. In the mid 18th century King Louis XV of France commissioned his court jeweler to create a diamond cut to reflect the shape of the mouth of his mistress Madame de Pompadour! This cut was the marquise cut, also known as the navette cut.

1800 Rose and Old Mine Cushion

The Early and Middle Victorian era saw the use of mostly old mine cushion cuts in jewelry. Invention of the bruting machine, steam-driven brutting machine, and motorized saw in the late 1800s revolutionized diamond cutting. These tools enabled cutters to precisely shape rounder and more brilliant diamonds. These new techniques gave rise to the old European and English round cuts, both of which have a total of 58 facets same as today's round brilliant cuts.

In the mid to late 19th century the official diamond rush began with the discovery mines in South Africa. The ancient craft of diamond cutting had emerged as a modern industry. De Beers owned mostly all of these mines as the De Beers Mining Company.

1900 Old European & Asscher Cuts

Invented by the Royal Asscher Diamond Company in 1902 the Asscher cut didn't gain popularity until the Art Deco era in the 1920s. This diamond is one of the very first patented diamond cuts in the world.

Classic asscher cut diamonds are cut into squares and resemble emerald cuts which are rectangular. But asscher cut diamonds have larger step facets, a higher crown, and a smaller table. Be careful, often people ask for asscher cuts they are just getting square emerald cuts.

The corners are cropped which give the shape an octagonal appearance. The asscher is typically more brilliant then it's cousin the emerald cut. Asscher cut diamonds from the 1920s and 1930s are very rare.

1920 Old European Gained in Popularity

Diamond engagement rings gained in popularity during the Art Deco era and the round old European cut diamond was the favorite.

Old european cuts have a round girdle, meaning they appear round from the top view as opposed to the earlier old mine cut which had a more squared off top view. Like the old mine cut, the old european has a high crown, small table, and open culet. Notice the culet in the diagram below. Instead of coming to a perfect point, it is cut straight across so that it is flat at the bottom.

Old European cut diamonds have facets that are thick triangular blocks as opposed to modern round brilliant cuts which have thinner facets.

1930 Emerald Cut

The term emerald cut was born at this time and replaced the earlier table cut and step cuts.

Emerald cut diamonds have a dramatic hall of mirrors effect. Descended from the step cut, emerald cuts were standardized in the 1940s. The step cut emerged as one of the first faceted diamond cuts, third in line after the point cut and the table cut. In the step cut the shape of the rough diamond usually dictated the position and placement of the facets, allowing to maximize the carat weight of the final gem. Usually these had larger crowns and smaller tables.

1940 Modern Brilliant Cuts

The most infamous tag line was invented by De Beers in 1947, "A Diamond Is Forever"! Slowly over time old European and transition cut diamonds gave way to the modern brilliant cut, which continues to dominate to this day.

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The history of diamond cutting officially began in the middle ages when diamonds became fashionable in Europe. This diagram illustrates the six most popular antique diamond cuts throughout history. There are others but we will focus on the most popular here.